


Manual of Diagnosis and Therapy

by arainymonday



Series: Gray's Anatomy [5]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hospital, Grey's Anatomy-esque, M/M, Medical Trauma, Panic Attacks, Past Child Abuse, Surgery
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-23
Updated: 2016-07-23
Packaged: 2018-07-26 08:12:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 30,781
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7566787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/arainymonday/pseuds/arainymonday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Between studying for board examinations and applying for fellowships, fifth year is a challenge for all surgical residents. Dr. Barry Allen also has to contend with a metahuman stalking him for his energy, the unsettling attention of STAR Labs scientist Dr. Eobard, becoming a superhero, and possibly losing his fiance Dr. Leonard Snart because of his heroics.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Manual of Diagnosis and Therapy

Surgeons who are on call don’t often get to enjoy an entire dinner, especially not in Central City where a metahuman might cause mass destruction at any moment, so it’s a minor miracle that no cell phones interrupt the dinner to welcome Sara and Nyssa to Central City. Their waiter takes away their dessert plates and refills coffee cups and still all six surgeons are seated around the table.

“Maybe you’re good luck,” Barry says.

“No, Barry!” Iris cries. “Never mention luck. Someone is getting paged for sure now.”

“Someone was bound to get paged anyway,” Eddie says. “It won’t be Barry’s fault when we do.”

Eddie’s easy smiles and sunny disposition have drawn scrutiny from Nyssa all night. She stares at him like he’s a dissecting aorta, something she understands how to repair but which can almost never be done fast enough to save a patient. Barry glances sidelong at Len. He’s been looking forward to seeing Eddie and Nyssa together for months. It’s all he talked about while they were dressing for dinner tonight.

“Why don’t you tell us about the move,” Eddie says. “What’s your new place like?”

As usual, Eddie has gracefully kept the conversation away from medicine all night. That seems to cause Nyssa suspicion too. Cardiothoracic surgeons are known for their intensity and ambition, but Eddie doesn’t fit that mold well.

Sara starts to describe their new apartment which Len told Barry is in downtown Central City - he and Sara have become great friends from a distance, and Barry couldn’t be happier about it because Len so rarely lets anyone new into his life that it’s a joy to watch this friendship develop - but she doesn’t get a chance to finish. The lights in the restaurant wink out, and after the din of voices fall to a hush comes the dying whir of electronics and then silence. Until four phones ping with text message alerts.

Barry doesn’t have to look at his phone to know what it’s going to say. The first thing Caitlin did as Chief Resident was implement a new metahuman alert system as a way to call every available doctor to the ER and let them know what to expect when they arrive.

“What’s going on?” Sara asks.

“A metahuman is tearing apart Van Geld Avenue near the interstate,” Len says. “He has electrocution powers and the power is out in most of the city, but the hospital generator is running.”

“That’s right near STAR Labs,” Iris says. “They should have the meta in custody soon, but if people are getting electrocuted in the meantime -”

“Dinner is over,” Eddie says.

Barry leans over to Len while everyone else is pulling on their coats and waving over their server because they don’t have time to politely wait for the check. “I should go to the scene and help the paramedics with critical patients. STAR Labs is fifteen minutes from the hospital, if traffic is light.”

“We don’t have privileges at Central City General yet,” Nyssa says.

“Then let’s go get some,” Sara replies.

“I do so love the way you think.”

“We’ll stay and take care of the check,” Len says. Eddie makes a polite attempt at protesting, but Len cuts him off. “We’re talking about electrocution. They’re going to need trauma and cardio surgeons a lot more than peds surgeons. We’ll be right behind you.”

No one argues after that. Barry taps his foot impatiently, waiting until they’re out the door to jump up from his seat. Len insists on helping him with his scarf and coat even though Barry can’t catch colds.

“There’s a metahuman hellbent on electrocuting people at the scene,” Len says. “Be careful, Barry.”

“I promise.”

Barry kisses him goodbye quickly and dashes out the door, then puts on a burst of speed and becomes a blur and lightning trails. He skids to a stop in an alley behind the opera house and stamps out the embers glowing on his shoes. The medical kit he retrieved from the hospital - the detour costing him mere seconds - hangs heavy on his left shoulder.

Police, firefighters, and paramedics have already arrived. There’s also a van with the STAR Labs logo emblazoned on the side. Two people are circling the metahuman who is throwing electricity from his hands. The air smells like ozone. Barry tears his eyes away from the metahuman and STAR Labs team. He jogs over to the paramedics who are examining panicked bystanders the police are rounding up and loading patients on stretchers into the rigs.

“How can I help?” Barry asks.

The paramedic who answers is a new guy - young, serious, fantastic at his job - called Wally. “Those two are the worst off,” he says, motioning to the left where two paramedics are performing CPR, “but they’re definitely DOA. We could use your help with this one more.”

The patient’s shoulder is badly burned. She needs Mick as soon as possible. He leaves the burn for now, not having the right equipment or sterile environment to deal with it in the field, and instead performs a physical exam while Wally secures her in the ambulance.

“My name is Dr. Allen. I’m going to help you,” he tells the woman. Her eyes are open, but she only stares straight up at the roof. “Can you tell me if you’re experiencing any pain or tingling sensations?” She doesn’t respond. “Can you feel this?” She doesn’t react to Barry’s finger pressing against the bottom of her foot, knee, hand. He turns to Wally. “She’s in shock, but her vitals are decent. Call ahead for neuro and plastics.”

“What about the burn?” Wally asks.

“I can’t do any more than you can in the field. Bandage it lightly, but the burn center will have to treat it at the hospital.”

Wally nods, but he looks disappointed. Maybe the triage of first responders isn’t for him after all. It’s a shame because he’s a natural at stabilizing patients for transport. Barry climbs out of the ambulance so the driver can shut the doors and get the woman to the hospital.

He turns to the scene to search for other victims, many of whom will be in cardiac failure from being hit with a volt of electricity, but the man standing in front of him is not a patient or paramedic or police officer. Barry raises his hands slowly, palms out and pleading.

“I’m a doctor,” he says. “I’m not here to hurt you. I’m trying to save people.”

The metahuman’s lips twist. “I’m here to hurt you.”

The first surge of electricity hits Barry in the gut and sends him flying ten feet. He lands hard and rolls once. The breath is knocked out of him, but aside from the pain of impact, he doesn’t feel like he’s been electrocuted. He knows very well what that feels like. Instead, he feels like he’s run to Starling and back.

“Oh shit,” Barry breaths.

He scrambles to his feet, but too slowly - even thinking that word startles him - to avoid the power radiating from the metahuman. It connects with Barry’s chest this time, and he’s not being electrocuted. He’s being siphoned. The energy of his speed is rushing out of him like blood from a nicked artery. He’s screaming, falling, fading.

When he comes to, it feels like only a few seconds have passed, but the metahuman is unconcious on the ground. A tall man with blond hair and piercing eyes is staring down at Barry. He holds out a hand to help Barry up, but Wally skids to a halt between them.

“No, you don’t,” he chides. “You’re not moving until I know you’re stable. You just got zapped with enough volts to kill you.”

“Really, I’m fine,” Barry protests.

But he doesn’t feel fine. Something is missing. Something vital that he doesn’t consciously notice, like his heartbeat or breathing.

The blond man watching Barry over Wally’s shoulder turns away when a red-haired woman approaches. “Eobard! Are you okay? We should we get Gibran back to STAR Labs. The General is screaming for updates.”

The man called Eobard heaves a sigh. “Everything went off the rails when I started working with military scientists. No offense, Bette.” The woman shrugs. “Tell Eiling we’re on our way. Hewitt and I will load Farooq into the van.”

Like most people in Central City, Barry is morbidly curious about what happens in STAR Labs and who works there. This brief glimpse is not enough to slake his curiosity, but he potentially knows more than any other person in the city not employed by STAR Labs. The military is apparently running the show - it’s terrifying if he thinks about it too much  - and their field team is made up of some mix of military and civilian scientists. Eobard, Bette, Hewitt, Eiling - they’re the frontlines keeping the city safe. Barry isn’t sure how he feels about that.

“Can you stand?” Wally asks.

“Yeah, yeah. I’m sure I can,” Barry says, but his knees buckle when he gets up.

He knows without trying to run that he can’t, that his speed is gone.

o o o

Barry fights with Wally the entire ride to the hospital, but the EMT isn’t buying that Barry is perfectly fine. Well, as fine as Barry can feel without his speed.

“You just got electrocuted,” Wally says brusquely, his patience long ago gone.

“I’m helping you bandage a burn wound,” Barry says, motioning to the woman with the shoulder burn who is in shock. “I’m completely fine.”

“Look, I’m not gonna be the rookie EMT who lets a surgeon die on his watch. You’re getting checked out in the ER.”

Barry tries to jump out of the ambulance when they arrive at the hospital, but Wally is faster - Barry feels a stabbing phantom pain in his gut - and meets the emergency team first.

“Two patients. One is a woman about forty-five years old. Electrocution burn to the right shoulder. Vitals are within normal limits, but she’s in shock.” Two interns and Dr. Park wheel the woman’s gurney into the ER. “The second patient is Dr. Allen who was uncooperative and wouldn’t let me examine him. But I saw him get electrocuted.”

Barry jumps down from the back of the ambulance and is immediately assaulted by Caitlin's concern.

“Oh my God, Barry!” she cries. “Are you sure you’re okay? No paralysis or tingling sensations? Dizziness or nausea?”

“I’m fine, Caitlin,” Barry says. “I’m going to gown and help out in the ER.”

“No, no, no,” Caitlin says. She bodily blocks Barry from the cabinet holding trauma gowns and gloves. “You didn’t let Wally examine you. We have no idea what injuries you might have and aren’t showing signs of because of adrenaline.”

“Caitlin, really -”

When it comes to patient care, Caitlin brooks no compromise. Barry finds himself manhandled into a bed in the ER and behind privacy curtains before he can finish arguing his case. Caitlin spends a few minutes tapping on her tablet to admit him as a patient.

Barry isn’t sure what his vitals will look like right now. Normally, his heart rate is so fast the equipment can’t register it. He’s never tried listening to his own heartbeat or breath sounds through a stethoscope. He regrets that now. He doesn’t know if his vitals will look normal without his speed or if his metahuman transformation has altered his physiology permanently.

“Okay, Barry. I’m going to do the physical examination now.”

She starts by examining his skin for signs of burns, which is very uncomfortable because it involves Caitlin looking at a lot of naked skin and she’s like his sister. She hasn’t finished checking his torso - he’s not looking forward to the part where he has to take his pants off so she can check his legs - when the privacy curtains slide back.

“Hi, Hartley,” Caitlin says. “You’re not on the schedule tonight.”

“I came in when I got the metahuman alert notice.”

Caitlin lights up. “It works! The boards are going to love something like that, if anyone on my panel is from Central City or Keystone. We’ll at least have someone from Keystone, right? I mean, the boards are in Keystone this year.”

“Sure,” Hartley says. “If you have enough surgical hours.”

Caitlin’s smile slips. “Dr. Wells did tell me I need to log more hours. It’s almost impossible, though, between making schedules and covering shifts no one else can.”

“I’ll take over here,” Hartley says. “If you want to catch a surgical case. There are several more ambulances on the way.”

Caitlin glances between Barry and the ER doors, but shakes her head. “Barry is my patient.”

“Barry can be my patient.” Hartley plucks the tablet from Caitlin’s hand and scans through the chart. “You know there’s nothing wrong. You’re going to waste another fifteen minutes and miss all the traumas coming in. Go.”

Once she gets a nod from Barry, Caitlin scurries off to the ambulance bay to wait for another case. Hartley pulls the privacy curtain closed then rounds on Barry.

“What the hell are you thinking, Barry?” he hisses. “You can’t be examined at a hospital.”

“W-What do you mean?”

Except Barry already knows. Hartley is the smartest and most observant of them all. He saw Barry move at superspeed the night Henry came into the hospital. He all but told Barry he’s a metahuman after that. Of course he knows.

Hartley throws him an unimpressed look. “Fine, if you need me to say it. You’re a metahuman. Your gene is expressed as hyperkinesis. Superspeed. My gene is expressed hypersonically. Superhearing. But we both already knew that, didn’t we?”

Barry swallows thickly. Len figured it out a long time ago and confronted Barry about it. No one else since then has let on that they know. He wonders how many other people have noticed him moving unusually fast, eating an unusually large number of calories and gaining no weight. He’s feared this since the day he got his speed, but especially since other metahumans started terrorizing Central City. But Hartley isn’t afraid of him because he understands that despite all the people like Farooq Gibran and Roy Bivolo, metahumans aren’t dangerous simply because they’re metahumans.

“There’s no need to be smug about it,” Barry grumbles.

Hartley rolls his eyes. “I assume Len knows?” Barry nods. “Then I’m going to page him so he can take you home and observe you there before one of the thousand medical professionals in this hospital notices something unusual and decides to sequence your DNA.”

Barry rolls his eyes. “No one is going to randomly sequence my DNA.”

Hartley casts him a scathing look while he taps out a text to Len. “You don’t think Caitlin, with her background in bioengineering, would sequence your DNA if she suspected something?” Barry can’t refute that so he doesn’t try. “Len should be here soon. I’m going to go find other patients who actually need medical attention.”

o o o

Fortunately, no children were harmed by Gibran and Len is available to answer his page to the ER immediately. Barry is sitting on the edge of his bed, head in his hands because it’s all starting to sink in now that he’s had time to sit with the idea that his speed is gone. This thing that’s been a part of his life for five years, this thing that made him special, is suddenly not part of him anymore.

“Barry!?”

Barry looks up, startled. He’s never heard Len sound panicked - not when children are brought into the ER, not when there are complications in their surgeries, not when they’re dying on his OR table - until right now. Len’s concern is hands on his face, peering into his eyes, pulling him into a bone-crushing embrace, a thundering heartbeat sounding against Barry’s chest.

“I’m okay,” Barry says softly. “I got a clean bill of health from two doctors.”

Len doesn’t release him from the embrace for another minute. When he does, he insists on reading Barry’s chart, checking him over again for burns, asking too many questions about numbness, tingling, blurry vision.

“I promise I’m okay, Len. There’s nothing wrong with me.” Barry feels guilty about the lie, but he doesn’t want to send Len into another panic. They can talk about it later when they’re not in the middle of a crowded ER.

“What the hell happened?” Len demands.

“I was helping Wally stabilize a patient in the ambulance. She didn’t need my help, though, so I went to find another patient who did. But while our backs were turned, the metahuman came for the ambulances, which is so disturbing I can’t even think about that too much. I didn’t see him there until it was too late. He hit me with some kind of energy bolt twice. The second time I passed out.”

Len raises shaking hands to his head, looks away and then back with fury in his eyes. “ _What the fuck were you thinking?_ ” he yells.

Barry sits back and through a gap in the privacy curtains Len was too panicked to close completely, he sees the curious faces of their co-workers turned in their direction. But everyone knows Len’s voice and reputation and knows better than to interrupt when he’s berating who they must assume is an intern.

“Okay, we can do this if you want, but not here and not right now,” Barry says.

“Yes, we are!” Len snarls, still too loudly. “You can’t run off to play hero and almost die and not explain yourself to me!”

“I didn’t almost die,” Barry hisses. “And I wasn’t ‘playing hero.’ I was being a doctor.”

“Doctors came into the ER tonight and waited for traumas. That’s what doctors do. You rushed headlong into danger. I want to know why! Why would you do that, Barry?”

The privacy curtain is pulled back by Mick and Lisa. Of course Iris would have asked them to intervene. She can’t let a patient’s family cause a scene in her ER, and Mick and Lisa know how to handle Len when he needs to be handled. So does Barry, now that he realizes Len is too shaken and can’t calm down on his own.

Barry stands up from the hospital bed and crowds into Len’s personal space. He doesn’t touch Len yet, but ducks his head slightly to try and meet his gaze.

“Look at me, Lenny,” he says softly. Len’s eyes, still simmering with cold fury, flick up. “I’m okay. Wally and Caitlin and Hartley were being cautious. That’s all. I’m okay.”

Len is still shaking when he wraps his arms around Barry, but his heart isn’t pounding anymore. Barry holds him for a few minutes, nods at Mick and Lisa to let them know it’s fine and they can go back to their patients. They’re reluctant to leave, but they’re doctors and have to put other people’s families ahead of their own at times.

“Hartley discharged me. We can go home,” Barry says.

He takes Len’s keys from him and Len doesn’t protest. It’s been years since Barry has driven a car, but he better get used to it since he can’t run everywhere anymore. He distracts himself from that thought by focusing on the feeling of Len’s hand on his knee as he navigates through the streets of Central City to their apartment. The power is still out in this part of the city and it takes longer than usual to get home because police are directing traffic at every stoplight.

Len won’t break physical contact with Barry. It’s like he’s afraid Barry with rush into danger again if Len releases him. Barry doesn’t try to assure him he’s not going to do that again anytime soon. That will never work with Len. It will take time and action - inaction - for Len to believe it.

“Do you want to go to bed?” Barry asks because there’s nothing else they can do while the power is still out.

They undress in the dark and slide into bed. Len holds Barry too close, a hand on his chest pressing his back against Len and legs tangled together, but Barry doesn’t complain. He keeps his breathing steady even though he’s too warm and lets Len feel his presence.

“I shouldn’t have let you go to the scene. I should have protected you,” Len says quietly.

Barry turns over to face Len and is immediately wrapped up in the too tight full body embrace again. He doesn’t complain. He strokes Len’s cheeks, bleeds compassion from his eyes.

“It’s not the same,” Barry says. “I’m not Lisa. I’m not a child. It’s not the same.”

Barry’s not sure who is holding who so he clings to Len and lets Len cling to him and ignores the cloying heat of their warm bodies under the blankets.

“I’m so tired,” Len admits.

“Then let’s sleep.”

It’s so silent in their bedroom Barry can hear Len’s eyelashes flutter closed against the pillow. Len’s breath has just evened out when Barry hears the sound again. Len loosens his hold on Barry, places a hand over Barry’s heart, draws in a sharp breath.

“He did hurt you.”

Every cell in Barry’s body rejects the words because he can’t do this right now. He worked a fourteen hour day, had his energy siphoned by a metahuman, lost his speed, talked Len through a panic attack. He doesn’t have anything left to put into this conversation.

“Not really,” Barry says. “I don’t have my speed anymore, but he didn’t injure me. It’s fine. I’ll be fine. I got by for twenty-six years without superspeed. I’ll manage again.”

“Barry -”

“Not tonight, Len. Please. I’m exhausted and I’m worried about you. Let’s just hit pause. Please.”

“Okay,” Len says. He presses a soft, dry kiss to the corner of Barry’s mouth. “Try to sleep, okay? You’re going to need your rest.” Barry nods against the pillow. He feels his sigh like relief through his whole body as his tense muscles finally relax. “Goodnight, Barry. I love you.”

o o o

Len is reluctant to let Barry go to work, but Barry refuses to call in sick just because he lost his speed. He does allow Len to fuss over him in the morning, though. He’s not nearly as hungry as usual, but Len is a good cook and he polishes off an omelette which seems to make Len happy. When they stop by Jitters, Len suggests no extra shots of espresso for Barry and it’s a good thing he does because Barry hasn’t felt the effects of caffeine in five years and he is _wired_ from a single cup.

“Good morning!” Barry says brightly when he barges into the residents’ locker room. “How are we all feeling this morning? I am so pumped to save lives today!”

Twenty pairs of eyes stare blankly at Barry, but none more so than his fellow fifth years who are wiped out from studying for their boards.

“Are you okay, Barry?” Iris asks.

“I’m fantastic!”

“Yeah,” Cisco says slowly, “this is a little too chipper even for you. Are you sure everything's okay?”

“Everything is wonderful! _Coffee is wonderful!_ ” Barry struggles to pull on his lab coat because his hands are shaking slightly. The worry on his friends’ faces transforms into amusement. “I’m going to go meet my interns now!”

At Central City General Hospital, residents begin mentoring interns in their fourth year. Barry’s second year with interns is going much better than his first, in his own assessment. He has a great group he clicked with immediately this year, and even when his system isn’t jumped up on caffeine, he’s excited to teach them on rounds and in surgery. Len isn’t so enthusiastic about having interns in the peds ward, but he hasn’t protested their presence the way Barry expected. Jax and Kendra did a lot to convince him interns can be good doctors.

“Good morning, interns!”

Jesse Wells - Dr. Wells’ daughter - starts at the volume of Barry’s voice and quickly backs away from him, but Kara - Dr. Danvers, although Barry likes her so much he calls her Kara - perks up when she realizes Barry is in such a good mood this morning.

“Dr. Allen! You’re okay. We heard you got electrocuted by a metahuman last night.”

Barry waves off the concern. “Only a little bit.” Jesse cocks her head to the side and narrows her eyes. “You really look like your dad when you do that.” She stops immediately. She doesn’t like discussing her father, the Chief of Surgery, while they’re working. “Who’s ready to round!?”

Kara’s hand flies into the air and she bounces on the balls of her feet. They high five. Jesse and the other two interns share wary looks. They join Len on his way into the first patient’s room. Like Kara, their patient perks up when he realizes so many of his doctors are riding a caffeine high - or sugar high, probably, in Kara’s case - this morning.

“Good morning, Dr. Snart!” their small patient yells.

“Good morning, Josue,” Len says, at a normal volume. “Shall we get started?”

“Who wants to present?” Barry asks. Four arms go into the air, but Kara was fastest. “Dr. Danvers.”

There’s a spring in her step Barry approves of when she comes forward to present the case. “Josue Vergas, nine-years-old, presents with abdominal pain, steatorrhea, and dehydration due to short gut syndrome after a significant portion of small bowel was removed because of necrotizing enterocolitis during a premature birth. Josue is being treated with IV fluids and antispasmodics.”

“Thank you, Dr. Danvers,” Barry says. He turns to Josue, who looks bored because he hears this speech every day from a different doctor. “How are you feeling today, Josue?”

“Awesome!”

Barry smiles easily and tries not to let himself think about how Josue has been in the hospital for eight months and will never get to leave because while it’s a miracle he’s survived nine years with his condition, he probably will not see his tenth birthday.

“Your stomach doesn’t hurt today?” Josue shakes his head, but he doesn’t meet Barry’s eyes so Barry sits down on the edge of the bed. “I know you don’t like going into the MRI machine, but if your tummy hurts or if it did last night, we need to get a picture of it so we can make it stop hurting.”

Josue’s frail shoulders heave a sigh. He nods his head ever so slightly. “My tummy hurt last night. I didn’t tell the nurse, though, and it stopped.”

Barry understands his patients too well sometimes. Josue’s parents live two hours away where the local hospitals aren’t equipped to treat a terminal peds patient and they have to work so here he is, nine-years-old and dying and alone four days out of the week. He’s forgotten to be a child and cry and ask for help because, if he does, doctors will put him into an MRI machine that scares him and one of his parents will take off work and show up frazzled and worried and the stress of it all will aggravate the pain. It’s unfair and impossible to everyone and Barry wishes he could skip the MRI today and give everyone the day off emotionally, but if he does, he risks Josue’s health and it won’t help anyone in the long run.

“Then we have to take you for another MRI,” Barry says. Tears well in Josue’s eyes. “Dr. Danvers will be there with you the whole time, and even though she looks like sunshine, she’s really tough. And since the pain stopped for now, you can go to the playroom as long as you keep your IV in.”

“I will, I promise!”

The interns file out of the room, thinking they’re done because they still have a lot to learn about peds. Barry ruffles Josue’s hair and the affection is returned by Josue surging forward to hug Barry. Barry hugs him back, as tightly as he dares hug a fragile child, because his parents won’t be here for another several hours and a scared little boy shouldn’t have to go that long without a hug.

o o o

Barry is exhausted by lunchtime. Instead of going to the cafeteria, he collapses onto a bed in an on call room and falls asleep on top of the covers. He’s roused an hour later by the mattress depressing and blinks sleepy eyes open to find Len sitting on the edge of the bed holding a take out salad box from the cafeteria and a bottle of water.

“Caitlin told me you didn’t show up for lunch,” Len says.

Barry doesn’t try to stifle his yawn as he sits up and slumps against the wall. He’s almost too tired to eat the salad, but he takes methodical bites and chews slowly until his brain wakes up.

“As a doctor,” Len says, “you should be aware of the effects of caffeine and the importance of maintaining blood sugar levels.”

“I know,” Barry says around a yawn. “I’m just _so tired_.”

“I’ll tell Martin we need to reschedule dinner.”

“No,” Barry says. “We’ve cancelled on the Steins too many times already because of my schedule. I just need some time to adjust to not having my faster metabolism. I’ll be fine by tonight.” Len is showing signs of bringing up a difficult topic - avoiding eye contact, furrowed brow - so Barry acts quickly to stop that conversation before it starts. “I need to prep for our adenoma removal this afternoon.”

Len narrows his eyes. “You haven’t needed to prep for a surgery that simple since third year.”

“Thank you for bringing me lunch. That was sweet.”

Barry kisses Len with tongue and a low moan to distract him from pressing the issue of Barry’s speed. It’s a cheap move, but it works. Len is caught off guard enough that Barry can escape the on call room without incident.

The next time he sees Len is in the lobby of the hospital after their shift is over. Barry is dressed in gray slacks and a button down shirt with a red cardigan that Len says makes him look like a librarian, but it also gets Len worked up so he’ll probably be more focused on caressing Barry’s thigh on the drive to the Steins’ house instead of talking about his missing speed. Barry thinks he should be a little more troubled by using sex to distract Len, but actually it’s kind of fun playing the minx and watching Len’s eyes darken and linger on his body.

“That outfit is so inappropriate for a dinner party,” Len grumbles.

“Why is that, Lenny?” Barry asks.

Len doesn’t answer, but his nonplussed gaze travels from Barry to over Barry’s shoulder where Cisco and Lisa are standing. Lisa’s in a yellow dress the rich color of gold and heels so she towers over Cisco, and Barry really, really wishes Cisco had never confessed that Lisa in heels is a _thing_ for them because now he knows their evening plans and doesn’t want to think about his almost sister-in-law that way.

“I’m uncomfortable knowing you call my big brother Lenny when you’re horny,” Lisa says.

Barry’s cheeks burn hotly and Len doesn’t help by saying, “When he wants something from me. Tonight, what he wants is me.” He segues to a different topic at least as they leave the hospital together. “What are you two all dolled up for?”

“Dr. Stein invited us to dinner,” Cisco says.

“Oh, good,” Barry says, and it must sound a little bit too much like sarcasm because Lisa cocks an eyebrow at him and Barry can’t stop his eyes from flicking to her heels. Lisa is a very intelligent woman - she’s a surgeon, former Chief Resident, has all the accolades everyone in the hospital does and more - but she’s also incredibly street smart because she’s had to be so it takes her half a second to know that Barry knows about the heels.

“Like you’re not doing it too,” she says in her sweet tone with that wicked smile.

“Anyway,” Cisco says, not remotely subtle enough for it to be considered a rescue, “we thought we could ride with you.”

Barry is mortified that his first thought is to say no because he and Len can’t grope each other with Lisa and Cisco in the backseat. Then he wonders if every part of him has reverted to human again except his sex drive because he doesn’t remember being this horny before he got his speed.

“A penny for your thoughts,” Len says.

Cisco and Lisa are far enough behind them that Barry is okay answering.

“I’m forming a hypothesis about my sex drive. It’s higher than before I got my powers, but is that because of my powers or because you’re great in bed and make me want it more?”

“Definitely the latter.”

Barry laughs and wraps his arm around Len’s. Everything feels ... okay. His speed is gone, but nothing important has changed. He has some adjustments to make - he can’t take naps in the middle of the day all the time - and some things to get used to, but his life hasn’t really changed much from yesterday to today.

Barry is a surgeon. He takes out body parts all the time. Infected organs, diseased tissue, damaged limbs. For some patients, it’s a few weeks of recovery time and they’re back on their feet like nothing ever happened. They don’t notice the missing appendix or tonsils. All that’s left is a thin scar as a reminder that they’ve lost anything at all. For others, recovery is more of a challenge. They know they’ve lost something - a kidney, an arm - and they’ll miss it for the rest of their lives because their bodies will never let them forget what is missing. But they do continue and their futures are different, but not necessarily lesser.

He’s not sure yet which patient he’ll be - the one who forgets or the one who feels the pain.

o o o

“Dinner was delicious, Dr. Stein,” Barry says.

Dr. Stein pretends to demur, but since he spent half of dinner regaling them with the recipe for the meal, he’s obviously very proud of himself. They all stand from their seats to help clear away the dishes because it’s a dinner party, but it’s a dinner party hosted by people Len and Lisa think of as family.

Clarissa touches Barry’s arm lightly. “Will you help me set up Trivial Pursuit, Barry? Martin put it away on the highest shelf the last time we played. I don’t know why he did that.”

“Of course, Dr. Stein. Clarissa.”

The board game isn’t too high on the shelf, relatively speaking, but it’s two shelves above where they normally store it.

“Barry, is there something going on with Len?”

“I don’t think so?” He cradles the board game as they move into the sitting room. “One of his longtime patients is terminal, but we’re not there yet.”

“No,” Clarissa says, shaking her head. “I don’t think it’s about work. He spent so many years on my service I know his reactions to patients pretty well. Pardon me if I’m intruding where I’m not wanted, but is everything alright between you two?”

He’s always been surprised by how in-tune Len and Clarissa are with each other. It’s something Barry only has a vague and distant memory of with his mother. He came home with a black eye after a schoolyard scuffle once. His mother was waiting for him, wringing her hands nervously, like she knew something was wrong.

“Yeah,” Barry says, allowing his easy smile. “Yeah, everything is great between us.”

Clarissa wears the look of a person who doesn’t believe what they’re hearing, but has decided not to push the issue.

“I got hurt yesterday. By a metahuman. I’m okay. It wasn’t bad at all. Len ....”

He doesn’t feel the need to finish the sentence because Clarissa is nodding.

“After Len’s surgery to take out the shiv and repair the damage,” she says, “Lisa’s foster family brought her to visit him. When the foster parents said it was time to go, Lisa refused. As you can imagine, she was a headstrong girl. So the foster father, he thought it would be best to lift her off the bed and carry her out. She screamed all the way down the hall, and Len ....” Clarissa draws in a breath. “Len tore all of his stitches trying to keep them from taking Lisa. He made it from his room to the elevator. He lost a pint of blood before we sedated him and got him back into surgery. I went home that night and cried myself to sleep. Martin was so worried. He said I should request off the case if it was upsetting me this badly.”

  
“What did you do?”

“I declared peds as my speciality. Martin asked me why when I had shown promise in cardiothoracics. Didn’t I want the prestige? The opportunity for advancement? The awards?”

Clarissa and Barry both smile because it’s typical Dr. Stein.

“What did you tell him?” Barry asks. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

“I told him that I had discovered an injury which I did not know how to cure and I was going to devote all of my time to it.”

Childhood trauma still happens. It’s not something than can be cured. But, like pediatric surgeons, child psychiatrists have success with treatment because their patients are far more resilient and open to accepting help than adults.

“Do you think you made a difference?” Barry asks.

Clarissa considers for a moment, then nods. “If it’s not too arrogant to say. Yes, I think I did. He grew up to be a good man, and I’m sure he’ll make a good husband and father, if you decide to have a family. He’s devoted his life to medicine. I couldn’t have hoped for more.”

Barry’s lips part in surprise. She didn’t mean she was going to devote her life to childhood trauma, although, in the end, that’s precisely what Dr. Clarissa Stein became known for - emergency pediatric medicine. She meant Len. She became a peds surgeon so she could devote all her time to Len.

Another life flashes behind Barry’s eyes. It’s a life constructed of violence and shadows and regret. It’s too brutal for a soul as beautiful and selfless as Len’s. And yet, it was so likely. If Clarissa hadn’t fought for her right to a scientific education and gone to medical school, if she hadn’t been in the ER that day, if she had chased prestige at the expense of kindness, this life that Barry loves - and the man he loves - might have turned out very differently.

“My only regret is that Martin and I never adopted Len and Lisa officially. Back in those days, a woman who worked as many hours as a surgeon wasn’t considered a suitable mother, especially, as the state put it, to troubled children. I did always wish I could have had both, children at home and at the hospital.”

Barry doesn’t know what to say to that so he doesn’t say anything.

“Why does everyone look sad?” Cisco asks.

The others enter the sitting room behind Cisco now that dinner dishes are cleared away. Len sits next to Barry and wraps an arm around his shoulder. Barry blinks away his emotion, but the concern is still there on Len’s face. He’ll talk to Len about it later when they aren’t in a room full of people.

“Not sad. Teary, maybe, but not sad. We started talking about the wedding,” Clarissa says. “You know how emotional I get over weddings.”

o o o

Barry doesn’t like the NICU. It’s full of premature babies with tape over their eyes and tubes and wires connecting their too small bodies to medical equipment. It’s the one part of peds that he hates. He always pauses at the door after putting on a pink trauma gown and pulling on gloves. He has to take a breath, harden himself just a little to make it through this.

“You’re taking point,” Len says.

Barry’s shoulders sag. It’s hard enough being first assist on these cases, but he knows Len is assigning him this case because the boards will expect a peds resident to have taken lead on more premie patients than Barry has so he nods and enters the glass-walled room that feels more silent than the rest of the hospital, like the parents and nurses and doctors in this room are afraid to breathe too loudly lest they harm the tiny patients in their plastic beds.

“Mr. and Mrs. James? I’m Dr. Allen. This is Dr. Snart.”

“Dr. Palmer said you would be coming by,” Mrs. James says in a shaky voice. She means Anna, who delivered the Jameses' son a few hours ago and a couple weeks early. “Will Kyle be okay? He’s so small ....”

Barry looks at the small baby in the bed. He’s not too small considering his early delivery date. At full term, he would have been a big baby. But size doesn’t always mean much. It’s about whether his internal organs have developed enough.

“Kyle’s lungs aren’t strong enough to breathe on his own yet,” Barry says. Mrs. James turns toward her husband, who strokes her hair while she cries into his chest. “So we’ll keep him on a respirator and they’ll have time to develop. Our concern right now is that there’s a tear in Kyle’s bowel. We’ll repair it in surgery this -”

“Surgery?” Mr. James asks. “He’s too small.”

“We operate on babies smaller than Kyle all the time,” Barry assures him. “I know it sounds scary, and it is for you. We’re talking about operating on your son who shouldn’t even be here yet. But we do this all the time, and to us, this procedure is routine. It shouldn’t take us more than two hours.”

“Okay,” Mrs. James says. Her cheeks are drenched in tears, her eyes red and glassy. “Okay. When is the surgery?”

“We’re going to prep him now,” Barry says.

“You’ll be doing the surgery?” Mr. James asks.

“Yes, I will,” Barry says, as confidently as he can.

“All right,” Mr. James says. “Just promise us, Dr. Allen. Promise you’ll take care of our son.”

“I will take care of Kyle, Mr. and Mrs. James. I promise.”

Mr. James steps away, making more room by Kyle’s bed and giving Barry tacit permission to begin the surgical prep. The trust in that gesture - allowing a stranger permission to cut open their newborn son - is a weight on Barry’s shoulders. He always feels it because surgical care is a responsibility, but never as much as right now.

The Jameses watch everything Barry does, not with a critical eye, but because they’re parents who are worried for their son and can’t bear to look away from him. Len, however, does watch with a critical eye because he has to. Barry’s about halfway through surgical prep when Kendra appears on the other side of the bed in the sterile NICU garb.

“Excuse me, Dr. Allen. I noticed your name on the surgical board for this case with no assistant listed. I wondered if you would mind if I scrub in with you.”

Barry hesitates. Kendra is a great surgeon and has been since she was an intern. Even Len is impressed enough to let her scrub in on his surgeries. But this is a tiny, tiny human and she’s only a second year resident. He would rather have someone with more experience, like Jax although he can’t have Jax anymore because he declared an ortho speciality and is glued to Lisa’s hip.

“Why do you want this procedure?” Barry asks. He flashes back to almost three years ago and a conversation by the nurses station in the peds wing. He’d found Len’s question so unfair, so cruel. But now he understands the hesitation to let anyone treat these small, precious lives. “There are a dozen surgeries scheduled today. Why pick this one?”

“I want to be a neonatal surgeon,” Kendra says.

“Why?” Barry asks again.

Kendra falters, as unsure as Barry had been when Len put the question to him. “Okay, this is going to sound crazy, but .... Do you believe in reincarnation? Because I do. And I remember some of my past lives. I remember having a child and being afraid for him and wishing there was someone who could protect him from things I couldn’t. In most of my past lives, newborns could almost never be saved if there was a complication because we didn’t have the technology then. Now they can be, and I want to be the one to save them.”

Yes, that does sound crazy. But so does half of Barry’s life.

“Okay,” Barry says. “You can scrub in today. And for what it’s worth, that’s a pretty badass reason to become a neonatal surgeon.”

They finish surgical prep together and Barry asks Kendra to wheel Kyle down to surgery while he takes a minute to grab lunch - even with his now normal metabolism he needs to keep his blood sugar up like everyone else - before gowning and scrubbing.

“That’s a pretty batshit reason to become a neonatal surgeon,” Len says.

“Don’t be a cynic, Len,” Barry says. “Crazy things happen all the time in Central City, but that doesn’t mean they’re not real.”

Len doesn’t say anything while they wait for the elevator. Once they’re inside, he glances sidelong at Barry several times before speaking.

“I won’t be observing anymore of your surgeries unless you ask for my help,” Len says. “You’re ready, Barry. You’re a peds surgeon.”

“But the boards aren’t for another month. I’m still a resident until then.”

“In name, maybe. As far as I’m concerned, you’re no longer a student in my department. You’re a surgeon with full privileges.”

Barry stares at the elevator doors as they slide open. Everything has changed in a moment. His education is over. After fifteen years, he is no longer a student. He won’t round with Len because he’ll have his own patients. He won’t stand on the far side of the operating table because he’ll be lead surgeon. Unless he’s pulled in as a second set of hands or as a consult, he won’t work with Len anymore. He won’t get to see him roll his eyes when Barry plays with a patient’s toys or banter with him during surgeries or see their names side-by-side on the surgical board.

The elevator doors close.

“Barry?”

“I’m not ready for it to be over,” Barry says. “I’m not ready to not be your student.”

“It’s the end of an era, sure,” Len says. “You’re not my student anymore, but in a few months you’ll be my husband. That will be something new for us to learn how to be together. And then, just when we get comfortable with that, we’ll have a couple babies and we’ll learn how to be fathers. And right when we get the hang of it, they’ll leave for college and we’ll learn how to be alone together again. We have so many things to look forward to, Barry. This is a good ending because even better things follow it.”

Barry draws in a breath. “You know, you’re kind of romantic.”

“I might even buy you flowers one day,” Len says sardonically. He presses the button to open the elevator doors again. “Ready?”

“Ready.”

o o o

Barry’s jaw cracks when he yawns for about the hundredth time. Caitlin pauses in the middle of the scenario she’s reading off an index card and sends him a disapproving stare. The fifth years have been taking every opportunity to study for the boards, which are rapidly approaching and which none of them feel prepared for.

“As I was saying,” Caitlin says, “the patient also complains of stomach pain in the upper right quadrant.”

“How old is the patient again?” Barry asks.

“Thirty-two,” Hartley and Caitlin say at the same time.

Barry tries to shake off his sleep, but the couch in Caitlin’s office is so comfortable and Cisco is in surgery so no one brought candy and soda to this study session. A sharp poke to his calf alerts him to Iris’s arrival. She has carrot sticks and hummus. Barry groans, gives up completely, and rolls over on the couch.

“Are you kidding me?” Iris asks. “He’s not going to study?”

“Hasn’t answered a single question this session,” Hartley says.

“Barr,” Iris says slowly. “Are you sure you’re okay after that meta attacked you?”

“He’s fine,” Hartley answers quickly. “Cait and I both checked him over. Barry’s just cracking under the pressure of fifth year.”

Barry means to throw a pillow at Hartley, but he’s so exhausted he only manages to pull the pillow an inch to the left where it gets stuck between his cheek and the back of the couch.

“That is so pathetic,” Iris says with a laugh. There’s a snap when she bites into her carrot stick. “So what’s the scenario?”

Barry falls asleep before Caitlin finishes reading the scenario and wakes up an indeterminate amount of time later with a hand on his back. He blinks through his sleep. He knows the hand belongs to Len without rolling over, so when he does he throws his arm over Len’s lap and presses his face into the soft cotton of his shirt and tries to fall back asleep.

“Rise and shine,” Len whispers. A smile stretches across Barry’s lips, but he doesn’t open his eyes. Len runs his fingers through Barry’s hair. “You would be a lot more comfortable sleeping in our bed.”

Barry’s voice is muffled where it’s pressed against Len’s hip. “You wish I was all sleepy and pliant in our bed.” But apparently his words are clear enough because he hears a snicker and a choking sound and his eyes snap open.

The others have not cleared out like he thought. In fact, there are more people in the room now than before. Hartley looks amused. Lisa looks judgemental. She’s holding the stack of study notecards and the other residents are arranged around her chair like she’s the sun giving them life. She kind of is. Insight on the board examinations and study help from a fellow is gold to residents.

Barry struggles to sit up while he rubs the sleep from his eyes. His cheeks are burning and he’s clumsy from embarrassment as well as exhaustion. He has no idea how his friends function every day. They work punishing hours, staying awake for days sometimes, all while researching on their own time and having some semblance of a life outside the hospital. He has no idea how they do it without an enhanced metabolism.

“Hmm. That would be a change of pace,” Len says, and even though Barry shoots him a warning look, he continues to tease, “Usually you’re the one all over me when I’m sleepy.”

Lisa makes another disgusted sound and Barry is fairly glaring at him. Len navigates them out of Caitlin’s office easily with Barry not fully awake yet. A trail of goodbyes follow them, along with a couple sighs of relief probably, but Barry is too slow to respond.

“That was inappropriate, Len,” Barry complains.

“I like to see you blush.”

“Will you like it when Lisa punches you tomorrow for talking dirty to me in front of her?”

Len wraps his arm around Barry’s waist as they make their way through the parking lot. His breath is a warm whisper against Barry’s ear. “Barry, baby, if you think that was dirty talk, I can’t wait to see your blush when I tell you how I’m going to take you home and lick your hole until you’re begging for my cock and then I’ll fuck you just hard enough to keep you awake and just slow enough to drive you wild.”

“Len!” Barry hisses. His senses are bright as a livewire but made fuzzy by fatigue. On the edge of sleep and wakefulness, he can feel more than he can think, and he understands the appeal of morning sex for Len now. He feels only good things right now - warm, safe, sexy - without anything else getting in the way. There’s no work or history or stress right now. Just him and Len. In a public parking lot, though, that much does register. Barry sinks into the passenger seat with a low moan. His hand is between his legs before Len climbs into the driver’s seat.

“Are you really going do that? Or were you proving a point?”

Len’s response is a wicked smile.

o o o

Barry lowers himself onto Len again and pauses, chest heaving and sweat trickling down his temples and neck despite the cool air of their bedroom. Len rubs his hips and there’s impatience in his fingers because Len is close, but Barry’s thighs are burning in a way they never have before and he can’t catch his breath.

“Climb off,” Len says.

“No, no. I can keep going. Just give me a minute.”

Len clearly doesn’t believe him because he manhandles Barry onto his back and pushes into him again and the pace he picks tells Barry that Len was a lot closer than he thought and that particular moment was the absolute worst one to pick for a pause.

This is the first time Barry can recall Len coming before him, except when Barry very specifically withholds his own pleasure to lavish Len with attention. He’s too damn tired to care, though, and he’s getting a little pissed off that his orgasm requires so much _work_. And also that he’s only going to have one this morning.

“Everything okay?” Len asks. His eyes are half-lidded again with that beautiful, blissed out look in them that inspires a swell of pride in Barry.

“Aside from my sexual frustration, yes.”

Len laughs deep in his throat. “Let me help with that.”

He kisses down Barry’s sweaty torso and takes him into his mouth. It's as good as always, but after Barry is so damn tired he can’t keep his eyes open. Shafts of early morning sunlight paint the inside of his eyelids peach while Len kisses his neck and jaw and touches him everywhere he’s still sensitive. He desperately wants to get hard again, but his body is unable to comply and he presses his face into the pillow and whines about it.

“If you tell me you’re still sexually frustrated, my feelings are going to be hurt,” Len says, but his voice is teasing.

“It’s not about you,” Barry says, rolling over onto his back again. “Or the sex. The sex was amazing. And now that I’ve experienced the sex with you on a human level, I’m even more in awe because there is not a chance in hell I could keep up with my metahuman self. I would just give up and go curl up in a corner and probably just like apologize a million times for my inadequate sexual prowess.”

Len’s soft laughter brings a stupid grin to Barry’s lips, but it fades quickly. His hand finds Len’s in the tangle of blankets.

“It’s about me missing my speed,” Barry confesses. “I thought losing my powers might even be a good thing. I could be normal again and only keep normal secrets. But it feels like I’ve lost a piece of myself. It’s like I’m trying to perform surgery without enough light. My brain and my hands know what to do, but they can’t because I’m missing this one thing that’s intangible, but vital to me. Everything is fine, I guess. I’m not hurting without my speed. Except when I am.”

Len’s fingers tighten around his. “What do you want to do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Do you want to accept that you’ve lost your speed? I know you can’t walk into psych and talk to someone about this, but you can talk to me. I don’t care how hard or ugly it gets. I’ve lived through hard and ugly more times than I can count. I can handle it.

“Do you want to get revenge? I’ll call up all my old connections and we’ll hunt down that son of a bitch metahuman wherever STAR Labs has him hidden. I’ll do whatever you want to him until you say he’s paid for what he’s done.”

“Do you think he could give me my speed back?”

Len’s eyes go wide. The answer is no. Farooq Gibran electrocutes people and there’s no such thing as reverse electrocution, except in the case of a speedster and Barry isn’t one anymore. Barry’s eyes flick to the ceiling and he huffs out a sigh.

“Then there’s no point finding him. I don’t know what they do to metahumans in STAR Labs, but there’s something off about the whole thing. Eobard, the way he was looking at me ....” Barry shudders. “I pity any metahuman who they capture. I’m not walking into STAR Labs and telling them I used to be one.”

“I don’t envision bringing you along on this manhunt and kidnapping mission,” Len says.

“I don’t envision you being capable of kidnapping or anything else you suggested anymore, if you ever were at all. You might be tough, but -”

Barry’s words fail him when he glances over at Len and there’s no doubt anymore that, at one point in his life, Len absolutely was capable of kidnapping and violence and .... But Barry stops himself there because no matter how much shame and guilt he sees in Len right now, he can’t think the words that follow. They don’t fit with the man he loves.

“You might have been tough,” Barry corrects, “but you’re a big teddy bear now.”

“I’m going to dropkick an intern today to prove you wrong.”

“You are not.”

“I might.”

“You won’t.”

“I’m Captain Cold.”

“Not really.”

Barry presses a kiss to Len’s mouth and grins down at him before climbing out of bed. And promptly falls to the floor. Len is there in an instant, worry in the furrow of his brow and downturn to his lips. But Barry is laughing.

“What’s funny?” Len demands.

“The sex was so good I literally cannot walk.” Len rolls his eyes and that makes it even funnier to Barry. “My thighs are so fucking sore I can’t stand up. Oh my God. How am I going to do a craniotomy with Ronnie today? _Hours_ standing in an OR.”

Len helps Barry stand and gets him into the shower, which is honestly a blessing because Barry can’t remember ever feeling this kind of ache in his muscles. He knows he has felt this way before, but it’s a distant and faded memory.

They don’t have time for breakfast because they stayed in bed so long, but Barry can survive on a cup of coffee and a banana today so it’s fine. When he climbs into the car, he feels a delicious ache in his ass that will remind him of Len all day. His increased healing always erased this part too quickly. Barry’s cock is a little too pleased with the sensation, though, and Len notices the tightness in his pants.

“Interesting,” he drawls with that cocky smirk of his.

“Shut up,” Barry grumbles.

They part with a kiss at the elevator doors on the third floor.

“Good luck standing up in surgery for six hours,” Len says. “Try not to think about me too much while you’re in there. Ronnie might get the wrong idea.”

Barry glares at him while the elevator doors slide closed.

o o o

Barry thinks about Len’s words for the next two days. He doesn’t know what he wants to do about his speed. He swears he feels the loss greater by the hour. He thinks it might drive him crazy if he doesn’t do something. He’s thrumming with nervous energy because he’s never idle, physically or mentally. In the end, it’s that hyped up, desperate need to _move_ \- move forward, move faster - that makes the decision for him.

Barry paces around Caitlin’s office, palm tapping against his thigh as he waits for Cisco and Caitlin. Hartley is on the sofa flipping through notecards and lowkey judging Barry with vicious glares every time Barry blocks the light and interrupts his studying.

“Hey, Barry. Hartley,” Caitlin says. If she’s galled that Barry called a meeting in her office, she doesn’t show it. She’s too tense to worry about things like that. “Are we studying again? I hope so because I am so behind. I literally have not been home in eight days and I’m still behind. How is that even possible?”

Cisco is right behind Caitlin. He pushes Hartley’s legs off the sofa and collapses. Hartley stares him down while he puts his legs on Cisco’s lap, but Cisco doesn’t care because he’s still in a scrub cap so he’s just come from surgery and sitting down is worth being Hartley’s human ottoman.

“You should really go home, Cait,” Cisco says.

“You should go home and get laid,” Hartley says. “You retain more while studying if you’re not teeming with sexual frustration.”

Caitlin’s eyes flash, but no one disagrees with Hartley. Barry doesn’t let the conversation get going, however. He’s not here to study for the boards.

“Guys, I have something I need to tell you,” Barry says. Their attention is slow to shift to him, but when it does they forget about other conversations and note cards, probably because of the way he’s bouncing and wringing his hands nervously.

“What is it, Barry?” Caitlin asks. She’s forgotten about her problems, focused entirely on Barry now, and this is why she’s the perfect Chief Resident and no one holds a grudge that she was chosen over them.

“So I’ve kind of been keeping a secret from you guys? And I’m really sorry that it’s taken me so long to tell you, but it’s kind of just one of those things that happens? You know, you don’t say anything and then you think there’s no point and then you feel like it’s too late?”

“Spill, man,” Cisco says, sitting forward.

“I’m ... kind of a ... metahuman?” Barry asks more than says and shrugs like it’s an ‘ah, shucks’ announcement instead of a ‘dark matter energy altered my DNA’ announcement. “The night the particle accelerator exploded, I was struck by lightning and I guess the combination of both kinds of energies gave me superspeed. Or maybe the chemicals in the pharm lab mixed with the lighting? I don’t know. But, uh, yeah. I’m really fast now.”

Barry watches Cisco and Caitlin closely. He can see Hartley from the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t look over to find out what he thinks of Barry’s coming clean. He’s afraid Hartley will think it’s a stupid idea and he’ll have that to contend with on top of however Cisco and Caitlin react, and he’s not sure how that will be, because they’re both just kind of sitting there with their normal resting expressions. Finally, they glance at each other, share a slight nod and flick of the eyes and twitch of the lips.

Cisco takes a breath and turns back to Barry. “Yeah.”

“W-What?”

“We know, Barry,” Caitlin says. She sounds too kind, like she’s trying very hard not to tell Barry he’s stupid. “We’ve known for awhile.”

“You’re not exactly subtle,” Hartley says. He doesn’t make eye contact with anyone, just continues flipping through notecards without really reading the medical scenarios written on them. “Unlike me,” he adds, too casually.

“You ain’t that subtle either,” Cisco says flatly. Hartley is high affronted. “Seriously, dude, if you don’t want someone to know you have superhearing, don’t tell them a patient is in vfib when you’re like twenty doors away from their room.”

Hartley throws down the notecards and crosses his arms over his chest. There’s no other word for the turn of his lips except pouting.

They’ve known all along - or for long enough - and they haven’t cared. Despite all the other metas causing mayhem and murder, they’ve seen him as just Barry. He feels warm, and even though Hartley is pretending to be upset, he must be as relieved as Barry.

“So why are you telling us now?” Cisco asks.

“Because I lost it. The night Farooq Gibran attacked me, he took my speed. And I want it back.” Silence. “I figured that you might have some ideas about how to do that. Cisco, you’re a neuroscientist -”

Cisco snaps his fingers. “So if Blackout’s power -”

“Blackout?” Hartley asks.

Cisco waves off the question. Of course Cisco was going to give Gibran a moniker. He’s Cisco. “So if Blackout’s power rewired something in your brain, I’ll be able to find it and maybe fix it.”

“But it might not be neurologic, so I should start sequencing your DNA and looking at possible causes on a cellular level,” Caitlin says. “That’s a pretty daunting task. No one has studied metahuman DNA before, except maybe at STAR Labs, but I’ll do my best, Barry.”

“No one has studied metahuman DNA before,” Hartley repeats. He sits up finally, study note cards entirely forgotten. “We’re talking about original research here. Groundbreaking research. And we’re talking about making Barry - and possibly myself too since we need a meta with abilities for comparison - our test subject.”

“You’re right. We have to get IRB approval -”

“No!” Barry and Hartley shout at the same time. Barry lets Hartley explain how terrible an idea that is. “If the Institutional Review Board knows about our research, then everyone in the hospital knows. Eventually, when no test subjects materialize, they’ll realize we’re the test subjects. I don’t know about you, Barry, but I’m not keen on seeing the inside of STAR Labs.”

Barry recalls Eobard’s hungry expression and shudders. “Definitely not.”

“Unauthorized medical research on living subjects?” Cisco asks faintly. “We could lose our medical licenses.”

Barry feels like an ass. He’s desperate for his speed, but it’s not likely they can reverse whatever Blackout did to him. He’s asking them to risk their careers because he can’t accept he’s lost an ability he doesn’t need to survive.

“Guys .... You’re right, Cisco. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t -”

“I’m in,” Caitlin says. Barry gapes at her. “I left bioengineering because I wanted to be the future of medicine. I wanted to develop new techniques and medicines myself, not just one part of a new genetherapy that a doctor farmed out to ten different labs. But all I’ve done since is study. Study in medical school, study other surgeon’s techniques in the OR, study for my intern exam, study other surgeons some more, study for the boards. I can’t study anymore!”

To Barry’s surprise, Cisco and Hartley are nodding too. He wonders if this restlessness he’s felt building the last couple days is really about his speed or if it’s something all fifth year residents feel when they’re on the edge of validation or failure.

“We need a lab,” Hartley says.

“It’s a good thing I’m Chief Resident and control the lab schedules,” Caitlin says.

o o o

Barry can’t really believe they’re doing this, but here he is sitting on an exam table in the path lab because it was the only one free with Caitlin drawing a truly alarming amount of blood from him and Cisco explaining that their research project needs a codename.

“Otherwise,” Cisco argues against no one because they know Cisco well enough to anticipate there would be a codename involved, “we’re definitely going to get caught. But with a codename, everyone will assume I’ve nicknamed another patient and no big deal. You feel me?”

“We feel you, Cisco,” Barry says, grinning. “So what’s the codename?”

“Well, I figured I’d give this one to you since you’re our test subject,” Cisco demurs.

“No, man. It’s all yours,” Barry says.

Clearly Cisco hoped he’d get to pick the name because he doesn’t even have to think about it. “Okay, but listen. You used your superspeed to get blood for patients who were bleeding out in surgery and to go halfway across the city to treat trauma patients on the scene. You are a bonafide superhero and you need a superhero name. You just do. So I was thinking we name our research project after you.”

“Enough with the suspense,” Hartley complains. Caitlin has moved on to drawing his blood so Barry will forgive his attitude. “What have you been calling Barry in your head for years and are dying to call him out loud finally?”

Cisco only spares Hartley a brief frown that makes Barry wonder if his assessment is accurate and Cisco assigned this name to Barry a long time ago.

“ _The Flash_.”

Barry’s smile feels like it’s splitting his face. He’s not really a superhero, but it is pretty damn cool to have a superhero name anyway. “It’s perfect, Cisco!” Cisco throws his arms up in victory. “What do you call Hartley?”

“Pied Piper.”

Hartley makes a considering sound. “Hmm. Not terrible, I suppose. An esoteric historical figure, but a recognizable reference nonetheless, who used music - sound waves - to save a town from a plague while still having a vaguely sinister connotation. It’s fitting, I’ll grant you that, Cisco.”

“You like it,” Cisco says. “Admit it.” Hartley says nothing, but the upturn of his lips is enough for Cisco. “Two for two, baby!”

“Three for three,” Barry says. “Len is pretty fond of being called Captain Cold.”

Caitlin interrupts Cisco’s celebration by wrapping a tourniquet around his upper arm. “Whoa. Hey, what?”

“I need your blood too,” Caitlin says. “I have Barry’s for testing and Hartley’s as a metahuman comparison, but there’s no guarantee that will give me the answers I’m looking for. Unless there’s another non-metahuman male on Team Flash that I don’t know about, I need your blood for comparison too.”

Cisco cringes when she pushes in the needle. After Caitlin is satisfied and has placed all three trays of blood samples into the refrigerator, she takes DNA swabs from the inside of their cheeks and places those in the cooler too for later study. For right now, they have rounds and patients. But Barry can’t help but feel hopeful that he might have some answers soon, if not from bloodwork and DNA analysis, then from the neurologic tests and images Cisco has scheduled later when their use of the equipment is more likely to go unnoticed.

o o o

Barry is scrubbing in for a broken arm when Kara bursts into the scrub room. Her hair is windswept, but she’s not out of breath from running. It’s more the fear in her eyes and shaking voice that makes her seem winded.

“Dr. Allen, please. You have to help.”

Barry fights his nature to mimic her emotions and stays calm. It’s one of the first and most important lessons he’s learned during his residency. “What’s happening, Kara?”

“I’m on an OB rotation today and there’s a patient in delivery, but I think something is wrong because the baby is in decels, but not coming. Dr. Holmes says it’s fine, but I really don’t think so. He insists giving birth just takes time, but Jesse and I both felt the patient’s cervix and she is fully dilated. We think the baby is stuck, but Dr. Holmes just keeps telling us we’re interns.”

Barry is supposed to say that he’s a pediatric surgeon, not an obstetrician, and he can’t intervene until after the baby is born. That’s how medicine works. There’s a hierarchy and silos for a reason. Except that’s not how medicine _should_ work because if medicine only works that way, and Kara and Jesse are right, there might not be a baby for Barry to treat.

Barry pulls off his scrub mask. “Let’s go.”

The last time Barry ran before he was struck by lightning, he finished the warm-up in gym class dead last. All his years running at superspeed has done something for him, though, because he and Kara reach the delivery room in respectable time. Barry doesn’t study his watch, but he’s sure the high school version of himself would be stunned.

Dr. Holmes is not in the room, which saves him a fight in front of the patient. The woman in the bed is about thirty with tight black curls and sweat dripping down her temples. She’s scared, that much is clear, despite Jesse assuring her again and again that everything will be okay. Jesse exhales in relief when she sees Barry and Kara.

“Hello, Annette,” Barry says, because Kara is a good doctor and told him the patient's name before they entered the room. “My name is Dr. Allen. I’m going to do a quick examination on you and see if I can speed up your delivery, okay?”

“Please,” Annette groans. Like most women in labor, she doesn’t care how many doctors she’s never met before see her vagina or feel her cervix, she’s just ready for it to be over and hold her baby.

Barry washes and dries his hands and Jesse helps him into gloves, then he sits at the end of the bed to examine Annette. Like Kara said, she’s fully dilated and ready to deliver. The fetal heart rate monitor tells him that the baby is more than ready to come, and if decels continue at this rate, they need to call for an OR stat. Barry feels past the cervix and touches ... a foot. But no cord.

“Okay, Annette,” Barry says. “Your baby is breech. That means he’s coming out feet first, and we can’t let that happen, so I’m going to turn him. It’s going to hurt. A lot.”

“But then he’ll be okay?” she asks. Barry nods. “Okay. Do it.”

After this baby is delivered, Barry is reporting Dr. Holmes to Dr. Wells. He’ll have to admit to treating a patient that isn’t his and in a department in which he is not a _de facto_ attending. But he doesn’t care. There’s no reason for Dr. Holmes to have missed a breech birth unless he just didn’t bother to check the baby yet because he’s a dinosaur who thinks pregnant black women who are single deserve an excruciating labor as punishment or some bullshit.

“Okay,” Barry says around a smile. “The baby turned. Get ready to push when I say.”

Some days, Barry misses delivering babies. There’s nothing like being the first person to touch this tiny human life. It’s an incredible responsibility, to catch the baby gently and then with a firmer hand, coax a cry from him.

“He’s a handsome boy, Annette,” Barry says. Jesse helps him clear the baby’s eyes and airway and wipe him off. Kara hands him the clamp to cut the cord. “Ten fingers, ten toes, and a great set of lungs.”

He hands the baby off to Kara, who lays him in his mother’s arms for the first time. Barry stays at the end of the bed to deliver the placenta.

“A lot of doctors will reach in and pull out the placenta right now,” he tells Jesse and Kara, “but it’s better for the mother’s recovery if she can deliver it naturally. There’s less bleeding, which means less blood clots and shorter recovery time. So we’re going to wait.”

Waiting means that Barry is still in the room when Dr. Holmes finally comes to check on his patient. Kara very successfully steers Dr. Holmes back out into the hallway - she must be as deceptively strong as she is fast - and takes the brunt of his tirade so Barry can finish up the delivery.

“Annette, you did great. Dr. Wells is going to stay with you and some nurses will be in soon to help you clean up. When they come in, Dr. Wells is going to tell them I’m your son’s doctor. You need to tell them you want Dr. Loring-Palmer to be your doctor, okay?”

Annette’s eyes shift to the door. Dr. Holmes is still yelling at Kara on the other side. “Okay. Thank you, Dr. Allen.”

“You’re welcome, Annette. I’m going to be by tomorrow to check on that beautiful boy of yours again.” To Jesse he says, “Note the doctor changes in her chart and page Anna for a post-delivery exam.”

“It doesn’t seem fair that I’m hanging out with a cute newborn and you’re about to get yelled at by my dad,” Jesse says.

“Oh, I doubt he’ll be able to get in a word edgewise,” Barry says.

Jesse’s eyebrows arch and a smile breaks across her face. “Oh, please let me come with you.”

“I have something better for you than that. A cochlear implant tomorrow morning. You and Kara both, so you’ll have to fight over who gets to suction and who gets to fit the transmitter.”

o o o

“Barry.”

Len’s voice travels through the silent apartment and pulls Barry’s concentration away from the note cards surrounding him on the bed. Caitlin had suggested that while he’s waiting for her to look at his DNA and blood, he should actually study for the boards so that’s what he’s doing.

“In here,” Barry calls. “You’re really late.”

Len appears in the doorway and leans against the jamb. “Uh huh. There was a complication in my last surgery. Then Harrison needed to talk to me about one of my surgeons stealing a patient from a senior attending in another department and storming into his office to berate him for his staffing choices.”

Barry curses under his breath. “I tried to find you today to tell you my side of things.”

“Harrison was very clear that you are to be punished.”

Barry’s shoulders sag, but he can’t say he’s surprised. He doesn’t regret his actions, only that this happened right before his boards when a suspension or removal from the surgical schedule will stand out and could sway the examiners to decide against him.

“Okay. I mean, I get it. I don’t blame you. What’s it going to be?”

“I think this should teach you a lesson.”

Len holds up a small, clear plastic packet. Inside is a bright red ring of silicon. Barry’s breath catches. He licks his lips and shifts his hips as his pants grow tighter. They haven’t used toys much - not that this is a toy, per se - but thinking about Len stopping by a sex shop after work specifically to buy something to use on Barry is enough to make him eager. His hand travels between his legs, but Len wags a finger at him, pushes off from the jamb, and saunters over to the bed.

“I’m not sure this is what Dr. Wells had in mind when he told you to punish me,” Barry says.

“I sincerely hope not,” Len says. “Strip for me.”

Barry does and sends study note cards scattering to the floor and crinkling under his limbs. These are Caitlin’s cards and she’s going to be so pissed at Barry for getting them out of order and bending them. He doesn’t care right now.

“Seems like you have a thing for bad boys too,” Barry says.

“Not exactly,” Len says. He kneels on the bed, kisses Barry hard and dirty and Barry moans into it. “You stole a patient.” Another searing kiss. “And saved a baby’s life.” Kisses down the column of his throat. “Then you stormed into Harrison’s office and told him off for keeping ancient doctors around.” Len pushes him down into the mattress, slides his hand down, slips the ring onto Barry’s cock. “I’m gonna make this so good for you, baby.”

Barry has mixed feelings about the cockring while Len blows him and rides him because, if he thought it took too long to come before, this is taking an age and he’s starting to feel self-conscious about it. Even after he has Len’s come on his stomach and hand stroking him, he still hasn’t come. He can’t deny it feels great, but this whole stamina thing is new and not entirely comfortable on him yet.

“God, you look so gorgeous like this,” Len murmurs into his ear.

“Like what?” Barry asks. “Frustrated?”

“Debauched. I bet you’d let me do anything to you right now.”

Len’s observation wears away the edges of Barry’s self-consciousness. He’s too curious to worry about how long they’ve been going or whether that’s a good thing or not. Len’s sultry tones shut down the part of Barry’s brain that’s always thinking and lets him revel in the passion he feels for Len. Just like the first time they fucked in an on call room.

“I love you,” Barry pants. “You can do anything you want to me.”

“Anything at all? That’s a dangerous offer.”

Barry would laugh if he wasn’t skimming the edge of his orgasm. “What are you going to do, Lenny? Make me feel good? Tell me how much you love me? Kiss me like I’m the most amazing thing you’ve ever seen? Do your worst. I’ll love every second of it.”

Len stares at him with a familiar mixture of incredulity and tenderness, then stretches out next to Barry and finds the lube where it disappeared in the mess of blankets and kisses him sweetly while he slips his fingers into Barry. Barry strokes himself in time with Len’s thrusts and when he comes, he can’t say if the cockring made it any better because he’s pretty sure Len’s mouth and hands and hips and fingers are heaven all on their own.

“It’s been three years,” Len says, “and sometimes I still don’t believe you picked me. I keep expecting to wake up and realize it was all a fantasy.”

“Impossible,” Barry says, “because you’re always going to wake up next to me.”

“But when as your husband?” Len asks, and there’s a touch of a whine in his voice.

They’ve fallen so far behind on wedding planning that things are getting critical. The wedding planner is leaving messages daily. But they don’t have time for rounds and flower arrangements, surgeries and centerpieces, consults and tuxedos, ER shifts and seating charts.

“This December,” Barry says. “I promise.”

“That’s what we said last November.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. Boards are almost over.” Len makes an unhappy sound, but kisses Barry sweetly. “Your patience will not go unrewarded.”

Len’s smile is wicked, but bright. “Is that a promise too?”

“Definitely, baby.”

o o o

“Your interns aren’t horrible,” Hartley says as they’re scrubbing out from a cochlear implant.

“You sound like Len,” Barry says with a laugh. He finishes washing the soap off his arms and grabs a towel to dry off. “I got lucky this year. Kara and Jesse are the best of this cohort.”

“Thankfully. Can you imagine what a nightmare it would be if the Chief’s daughter was a bad doctor?”

They toss their towels into the bin and leave the scrub room before Kara and Jesse come to scrub out. As further proof they’re the best interns in the hospital, they’ve stayed in the OR longer to listen to Ronnie’s explanation of how the implant transmitter works with the auditory cortex rather than only showing interest in the surgery to place the device.

“We’re researching in the cardio lab now,” Hartley says.

That’s news to Barry, but it’s welcome news. He hasn’t heard from Caitlin in a couple days because their schedules are flipped - she’s on night rotation - but more lab time can only be a good thing. Cisco is there too when Barry and Hartley arrive.

“Tell me you found something.”

Caitlin shakes her head. “Sorry, Barry. I’ve looked at a cellular and molecular level, but I can’t find any difference between your bloodwork and Hartley and Cisco’s. I’m going to start sequencing your DNA today because I think the answer has to be there, unless the cause of you losing your powers is neurologic.”

“Which is why we’re in the cardio lab,” Cisco says. He pats the arm of a treadmill. “And I realize how cray that sounds, but the neuro lab was booked so give me a break? I brought an EEG and that’s a start.”

Barry sits while Cisco affixes the electrodes to his scalp, then connects the wires to the computer that will read his brainwaves while he runs. He steps up onto the treadmill and Cisco starts up the machine.

“I’m going to have you walk for a few minutes to establish a baseline,” Cisco says, staring at the EEG screen. “Then I’m going to increase the speed until you’re running as fast as you can without your superspeed and see if the alpha or beta waves change. Or gamma waves. Whoa. That’s a _hypothesis_.”

Cisco keeps murmuring to himself about gamma waves, and Hartley shows his skepticism with frequent eye rolls. Slowly, Cisco increases the speed of the treadmill. To Barry’s surprise, he’s not sweating or gasping for breath despite running for a quarter hour. Maybe it’s just sex that winds him.

“All normal,” Cisco says. “Barry, I’m turning the controls over to you. I want you to run as fast as possible.” Barry punches the arrow to increase the speed of the treadmill. And keeps pushing it. “Okay, okay,” Cisco says, grinning. “Here we go. Beta-2 waves are definitely jumping now.”

“Uh, Barry?” Caitlin says. “Are you sure you don’t have your powers?”

“Positive. This isn’t anywhere close to superspeed.”

“No, but you have just maxed out an athletic treadmill.”

Barry glances down at the treadmill controls. He’s running at twenty-five miles per hour, a speed that only top athletes who train hours a day can achieve. The surprise trips him up. Literally. He comes to a sudden and complete stop when he crashes into the wall.

“Barry!”

Caitlin insists on helping him sit him down on a bench so she can do a physical exam. She’s going to find at least one broken bone. Definitely his clavicle. Shit. He can’t operate with a broken collarbone. Shit. _Shit._

“Yeah, that’s what happens when you treat medical equipment like a toy.” The four residents turn toward the door where Eddie is standing with crossed arms. “I wondered why the four of you had booked the cardio lab. I thought you might be looking for study space and maybe I could help you with cardio scenarios. Imagine my surprise when I find you ... playing with the equipment in here. What are you thinking?”

“No, Eddie. We’re not just messing around. We’re resear -”

Barry moves too sharply and hisses at the pain radiating out from his collarbone. The stern expression melts from Eddie’s face. He crosses the room and kneels down in front of Barry. He barely has to touch Barry’s collarbone before he’s come to the same conclusion.

“We’ll talk about this research you’re doing later, but right now we need to get you to Lisa.”

Barry cradles his elbow in his hand as he follows Eddie to the elevator. The others stay behind in the cardio lab, hopefully to clear away evidence of their research. He’s not sure how to appease Eddie without telling him the truth, but that’s exactly what can’t happen. The fewer people who know Barry is a metahuman and about the unauthorized research on living subjects, the better.

“Is Iris involved in this research?” Eddie asks.

“No,” Barry says. But that’s the wrong answer. Eddie’s expression darkens and Barry doesn’t know what to say because he can’t claim it’s better for Iris without spilling the two secrets he doesn’t want to share.

“What did she do to you, Barry?” Eddie asks.

“Nothing.”

“Really? Because you’ve been cutting her out a lot for someone who hasn’t done anything wrong.” Barry’s jaw works, but he’s too surprised to find words. “She’s feeling really left out, Barry. She said you’ve only studied with her twice and you fell asleep once. Now you’re researching with everyone in your cohort except her. She’s hurt.”

“Eddie .... Look, the research is really specific and we just don’t need a trauma surgeon on it. But, yeah, I know we haven’t spent much time together lately.”

“She went to bat for you, Barry. Against her dad, of all people.”

“Yeah, after she called me a whore,” Barry says and instantly regrets it because of how disappointed in him Eddie looks.

But the elevator doors slide open and they step out onto the ortho ward. Lisa and Jax are waiting for them at the nurses' station because a surgeon with a broken bone is an emergency in any hospital.

“How did it happen?” Lisa asks.

She’s surprisingly gentle when she helps Barry remove his scrub shirt and up onto the exam table. It barely hurts when she examines his collarbone despite the impressive bruise forming and almost certain broken bone.

“I fell off a treadmill.”

“Do you have bird bones or something, man?” Jax asks. “It takes a lot more force than that to break a clavicle.”

“It was the high-speed treadmill in the cardio lab,” Barry says.

Jax only raises an eyebrow, and Barry knows he’ll be telling Jax this story on the way down to radiology, and that’s where he’s going because all ortho patients do, but also because Lisa is frowning while she examines his collar which means something is off.

“You might have gotten very lucky, Barry,” she says. “Let’s get X-Rays to make sure, but it might just be a hairline fracture with some serious swelling and bruising.”

“Let’s go see if it’s good news,” Jax says cheerfully, giving Barry the impression it will be. He probably charms the pants off all his patients, even the crotchety old hip replacements.

o o o

Barry likes having Jax as his doctor. For one, he doesn’t make Barry sit in a wheelchair on the way down to radiology. Two, he asks the radiologist to warm up the table before the X-Rays are taken. And, most importantly, when Barry says he’s starving, Jax decides they should go get lunch while they wait for the films.

“Barry, are you okay?” Hartley asks, sliding into the seat next to Jax.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Barry says.

“Probably,” Jax amends.

The last seat at their table is occupied by Axel Walker a minute later. “You forgot your yogurt,” he says to Hartley and moves a blueberry Greek yogurt from his tray to Hartley’s.

“Thank you.”

Hartley all but sighs the two words. His eyes go soft and his cheeks flush. It’s the cutest thing Barry has ever seen, and yet the one time he said that to Hartley, he had to talk his friend through a meltdown because, despite his prickly exterior, Hartley has a lot of reasons to fear loving someone so it’s best not to encourage him to think too much by mentioning it.

“Hey, Jax. Barry, are you okay? Hart said you were injured earlier?” Axel says.

Axel is unfailingly kind and warm, unlike his father, and Barry should know because Dr. James Jesse was his psychologist after his mom died. Dr. Jesse was chief among those telling Barry his mind was tricking him into creating the man in yellow as a coping mechanism. Barry hasn’t brought up the doctor-patient relationship with Axel because they don’t know each other that well and because the mismatched surnames of father and son tell a story Barry doesn’t think he’s earned the right to know yet.

“I’m fine.”

“Oh. You look a little pinched. Like you’re in pain,” Axel says.

“No, it’s just .... I’m thinking about something Eddie said.” Axel only raises his eyebrows, and talking more is a conditioned response for Barry who has sat across from many psychologists in his life. He’s compelled to explain himself. “There’s something I need to tell Iris, but I haven’t and he thinks I’m keeping the secret as punishment or something.”

“Do you think he’s right?”

Barry pretends to think about it to stall for time. “We talked about being family. Me and Iris, I mean. But I don’t know. I mean, I guess I haven’t completely forgiven her for some of the things she said about me and Len.”

“It hurts that she ever thought these things in the first place,” Axel says.

“Yes!” Barry says, like he’s been vindicated. “Exactly. I just ... I don’t get it. I wasn’t a huge fan of Eddie when they first got together, but I didn’t go around calling him Dr. Prettyboy out loud.”

Jax laughs behind his hand. “Oh man. I’m going to think of that everytime I see him now.”

Barry groans. “Please don’t.”

“Can’t help it,” Jax says.

“No, really,” Barry says. “I don’t need this getting back to Iris too. I mean, I guess I’m kind of holding a grudge? But she’s also trying, you know? She talks to Len, and she’s totally friendly when she does. That’s what I asked her to do. If she still thinks I’m sleeping my way into a career, she hasn’t let me in on it.”

“I think the question you need to answer, Barry,” Axel says, “is whether you’re withholding from Iris because you want to punish her. Or whether it’s because you’re afraid of being rejected again. One is a dark road and you don’t seem like a guy who thrives in darkness. The other is ... normal. And can be fixed, if both of you are willing to work at it.”

“So you’re saying I have to talk Iris about this. Again.”

“I’m afraid so.”

Barry leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “I hate psych interns,” he grumbles.

“He’s a resident now,” Hartley says, beaming at Axel.

“And you’re supposed to have a broken clavicle!” Jax says. “How are you crossing your arms?” He’s out of his chair and feeling Barry’s collarbone, but it doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s only a little tender over the bruise. “Huh. I’m gonna go get the films.”

Barry quickly excuses himself from the table, but he doesn’t follow Jax. He finds the nearest men’s room and strips off his scrub shirt. The skin over his collarbone is green, like the bruise is days old instead of only hours.

“Holy shit,” Barry breathes. “ _Holy shit!_ ”

o o o

Barry doesn’t say anything about his healing to anyone but Len, and even then he only hints around it. He’s too afraid to wonder out loud if his speed his returning. He might jinx it, start to think it’s assured instead of possible, get impatient. So instead he drops hints about being famished and his bruise and that he maxed out the high-speed treadmill and tries not to read into every hunger pang and restless moment.

He’s sufficiently distracted when he’s paged to the ER for a consult. Barry has never been the consult. He’s gone with Len on consults and asked for consults from other departments. He’s never been called for a consult, though, never been recognized as the expert in the room. But Len has released him from the role of student, and apparently, put him on the consult schedule. His hands are shaking slightly when he pulls back the privacy curtain to meet his patient.

“Hi, Emma. My name is Dr. Allen. Dr. Wells tells me you ate some peanuts?”

The woman with Emma is a teacher’s aide the preschool sent with Emma in the ambulance. “We sent home notes about her allergy, but someone wasn’t paying attention and baked peanut butter brownies for our birthday celebration.”

“I’ll bet they tasted amazing until you started itching, huh?” Jesse asks Emma. The little girl nods vigorously and scratches at the hives on her neck.

Barry listens to Emma’s breath sounds while Jesse has her distracted. He hears a little wheezing, but nothing too severe. He knows better than to treat a food allergy lightly, but also knows better than to panic just because it’s a peanut allergy.

“Emma, we’re going to give you a shot of some medicine to help, okay? Have you ever had a shot before?” The girl nods slowly, eyes wide and wary. “Then you know that you’ll have to be brave because it’s going to pinch just a little bit. But then you’ll start to feel better because the medicine will make you stop itching and make it easier to breath _and_ you’ll know how brave you were.”

“O-okay,” Emma says, with a tremble in her voice.

“Let’s give Emma .2 of epi to start,” Barry says to Jesse. “Give her .3 more if she doesn’t improve in a half hour.”

Jesse is a good doctor and knows what he’s not saying in front of the little girl. She needs to watch Emma to make sure she doesn’t go into anaphylaxis if the moderate dose of epinephrine doesn’t work.

It’s hard for Barry to walk away from Emma and leave her in the hands of another doctor. He’s spent five years enjoying patient interaction, even if it does take him away from surgery and research. But there’s a name for senior doctors who do scut and Barry isn’t interested in being known as a micromanager and control freak as well as the doctor who slept his way through residency.

He’s on edge the rest of the day, waiting for Jesse to page him or find him to give him an update on Emma. He doesn’t hear from her all day, so he swings by the ER on his way out but neither Emma nor Jesse are there. Barry checks his watch. Len texted to say he would be ready to leave at 6:30 and it’s almost 6:45 now, but Barry can’t let it rest. He heads up to the peds ward to see if Emma has been admitted, but crosses paths with Jesse and Dr. Wells in the lobby on their way out.

“Good evening, Dr. Allen,” Dr. Wells says. “And by that I mean I hope you’re heading home and not about to steal my daughter and prevent us from having a family dinner for once.”

“No,” Barry says. “I just wanted to know how Emma is doing.”

Jesse stares at him blankly for a moment. “Oh, the little girl with the peanut allergy? Yeah, she’s fine. I discharged her at, like, two. She only needed the .2 of epi.”

“You discharged my patient?” Barry asks, a little sharply.

Jesse looks very much like her father in this moment with her eyebrows arched, disapproval in her eyes, and mouth pressed together firmly. For a minute, Barry forgets that she’s an intern and isn’t supposed to look at him like that.

“Emma was my patient,” Jesse answers. “I called you for a consult because Dr. Snart wants a peds surgeon to look at every kid who comes into this hospital, and that’s fine and I appreciate learning from you, but she was always my patient.”

Another doctor might feel justified lecturing Jesse on how to address senior doctors, even in front of her dad who is the Chief of Surgery, but Barry isn’t one of them. He hangs his head and shoves his hands into pockets.

“Yeah, you’re right. You’re right.”

“Jesse,” Dr. Wells says, without taking his eyes off Barry. “Why don’t you go wait outside? Maybe call your mother and let her know we’ll be a few minutes late.”

Jesse does as she’s asked, dialing as she heads out of the hospital. Barry can just hear her say, “Hi, Mom” in the silence between him and Dr. Wells before she’s outside and the automatic doors close behind her.

Dr. Wells is quiet for a long moment. His voice is kind when he speaks. “There is no more difficult transition in medicine than promotion. When I became Chief, I regretted it for the first three months. I couldn’t be in surgery as much as I wanted, and even when I was, even during the most routine procedure, the gallery was packed. _The Chief is in surgery. Call out the parade._ It was ... invasive. The OR wasn’t my place of peace anymore. But, in time, I adjusted to my new role. I found ways to schedule surgeries quietly and run the hospital and make a bigger difference than I did as neuro chief. You’ll make the adjustment too, Barry. Give yourself time.”

Barry nods and summons up a chagrined smile. “Thanks, Dr. Wells.”

“Of course, Barry. And congratulations on your graduation. I agree with Leonard’s decision. You’ve earned our trust and respect. Even if it feels unnatural right now, you’re ready.”

Barry watches him leave the hospital and join Jesse where she’s sitting on a bench outside still talking on the phone with Tess. The hospital board is out of its mind if they’re really considering firing Harrison Wells. And because he’s disabled, no less, which just can’t be legal at all. And even if, somehow, it is legal, it’s still so wrong. As much as Len wants the job, as much as Barry wants him to have the job, neither of them want it at the expense of Dr. Wells.

o o o

Barry’s powers return at the worst possible moment. He’s on the high-speed treadmill with the EEG nodes connected to his scalp, Cisco is watching the readout on the screen and squinting, Caitlin and Hartley are bent over microscopes. He feels a current of electricity pass through him and then he’s flying. Literally. He’s running in mid-air, feet leaving the treadmill, lightning trails sparking all around him, careening directly toward a plate glass window and a bank of machines behind it.

There’s nothing Barry can do to stop himself. It’s all forward momentum. So he turns and ducks his head, crashes through the plate glass shoulder blades first, and lands in the rubble of the ECG and vascular ultrasound machines. Two computer monitors connected by a bundle of cords teeter before toppling onto the floor beside Barry.

“Holy shit!” Cisco yells. “Fucking gamma waves, bitches! Who’s about to get published in _Lancet Neurology_!?”

“Barry!” Caitlin yells. She skids as she rounds the door and picks her way through the broken glass and crouches down next to him. “Are you okay?”

That’s a difficult question to answer. He feels victorious because his speed is back. But he’s laying in half a million dollars of broken medical equipment and plate glass. He lets Caitlin help him up and check him over. There are a few pieces of glass in his back that she removes when they’re in the main lab again.

“So whatever Blackout did to you was temporary,” Hartley muses, “even though it wasn’t temporary for anyone else he electrocuted. Or whatever it is his power does physiologically.”

“I guess he didn’t get all my speed?” Barry says. He hisses when Caitlin removes a large piece of glass. “My body must have been able to regenerate my speed over time.”

“Interesting,” Hartley says. Then he shakes his head. “More pressing, however, is whether we’re about to get fired for smashing several hundred thousand dollars worth of medical equipment into scrap metal.”

Barry drops his head into his hands. “I’ll tell Dr. Wells it was my fault.”

“No, Barry,” Caitlin says. “We’re all in this together.”

“Speak for yourself,” Hartley mutters and Barry can’t blame him.

“On the plus side,” Cisco says, “Barry’s gamma waves spiked when his speed engaged - like _way_ above 40 hertz.” He sits down on a stool in front of Barry and leans in eagerly. “What’s it like being a Jedi?”

Barry laughs and shakes his head, momentarily forgetting about the expensive mess he’s created and how he probably will get reprimanded for it right after he’s been reprimanded for stealing a patient.

“I’m not a Jedi.”

“No, but you kind of are,” Cisco says. “Your gamma waves were off the charts. That’s some Force shit right there. No, wait.” He snaps his fingers. “ _Speedforce._ ”

“Catchy,” Hartley says flatly, but his tone doesn’t entirely hide his interest in the gamma waves. He almost became a neurosurgeon too. “I have a surgery in twenty minutes so we need to decide whether to confess or lie through our teeth about the equipment.”

As appealing as not getting a second black mark on his record right before sitting the boards sounds, Barry can’t conceive of lying to Dr. Wells. He tells the others to wait and goes to find Dr. Wells, who is in his office signing a mountain of paperwork. New intern applications, judging by the various university letterheads he can see peeking out of the manila folders.

“Dr. Allen,” he says, voice warm and welcoming. “What can I do for you today?”

“You can come to the cardio lab. There’s something I need to show you there.”

“How mysterious. I suppose I could use a break from reading prosaic letters of recommendation.”

Barry doesn’t say anything on their way back to the cardio lab. He’s braced himself for Dr. Wells’ reaction, but he’s not prepared to hear Eddie yelling from down the hallway. He sees Dr. Wells stiffen beside him. If Eddie Thawne is yelling, something is seriously wrong. Dr. Wells enters the lab ahead of Barry, so he can’t gauge the Chief’s reaction until he steps around his wheelchair and joins Cisco, Caitlin, and Hartley in solidarity.

“What ... happened ... here,” Dr. Wells asks slowly.

Barry clears his throat. He was prepared to tell Dr. Wells the truth, but he didn’t want to do this in front of Eddie. There’s no escaping it now, though.

“For the past few weeks, we’ve been conducting unauthorized research on a human subject. On me. Because I’m a metahuman. A speedster. And I really like being fast. But I lost my power when Blackout - Farooq Gibran - attacked me so I asked my friends to help me find a way to get it back. And I did today. And there was an accident.

“Dr. Wells, Eddie ... I’m so sorry I wrecked the lab. But more than that, I’m sorry I’ve put you and the hospital in this position by researching without IRB approval. As expensive as all this equipment will be to replace, it’s the hospital’s reputation, and yours as Chief, that I could have seriously damaged.”

“We,” Cisco says. Caitlin and Hartley echo him, “We.”

Dr. Wells removes his glasses, rubs at his eyes, slips his glasses back on. Eddie gapes at Barry.

“What?” Eddie demands. “That is ... completely insane. There’s no way that’s what really happened.”

“Show me your research,” Dr. Wells says.

All four residents scramble to produce the results of blood tests, medical imaging, physiological tests, and the EEG printout. Dr. Wells draws in a breath when he sees the map of Barry’s brain waves. Then he picks up Cisco’s coffee mug and releases it. Barry understands the unspoken instructions. He zips across the room, saves the mug from shattering on the ground.

Dr. Wells stares at Barry intently for several moments. Barry tries not to fidget, but he feels self-conscious standing in the middle of the room holding a mug of coffee that doesn’t belong to him with all eyes on him.

“Continue your research.”

o o o

Barry should be more concerned about Dr. Wells and Eddie knowing that he’s a metahuman, but he’s too happy about having his speed back to worry too much about it. He runs to Chicago between surgeries one afternoon and they feast on the most amazing pizza ever over lunch. On Saturday, he takes a selfie in front of Mount Rushmore and the Statue of Liberty _because he fucking can!_ It’s a good thing his fiance is a chief attending because he burns through an embarrassing amount of shoes in a week. The people who work at the Zappos warehouse probably know his name by heart and wonder why the hell Barry Allen has bought their entire stock of red Converses in twelves.

But the best part of having his speed back is most definitely how much more fun he has in bed. Vibrating for Len. Making Len shudder and cry his name. Coming over and over while Len blows him, licks him open, fucks him agonizingly slow, fingers him.

“Another,” Barry gasps.

He’s vibrating head to toe, can’t get it under control, doesn’t want to. He doesn’t feel like Barry. He feels only pleasure just starting to border on pain and he wants more. Len soothes him with hushing sounds and kisses to the back of his neck.

“Are you sure, baby?”

“One more. Please.”

Barry’s voice is a sob. He doesn’t care that he’s begging. He’s missed the limitless energy surging through his body. He’s missed testing its limits in every way.

“I don’t want to hurt you.”

“I heal quickly. It’ll be fine.”

“Barry.” His name sounds like a prayer. “No. You can fuck me.”

Len preps himself because Barry’s hands are too shaky to manage it properly. And he straddles Barry because Barry is vibrating slightly all over and couldn’t coordinate his limbs to do anything except lay on his back and arch up into Len and sob out a string of pleas. The vibration does something for Len because he’s hard again and Barry has to touch, can’t even really move his hand, but latches on and vibrates and that’s all Len needs apparently. But Barry hasn’t been able to come again yet and tears from pain-pleasure leak from his eyes so Len keeps going, riding Barry despite his exhaustion until finally, finally Barry comes with sob because it hurts so good.

Len gathers Barry into his arms and holds him and whispers “I love you” and “You did so good, Barry” and “I’m proud of you, baby” and it all overwhelms Barry even more so he clings to Len and cries until every drop of fear, worry, anxiety, grief that he’s bottled up since he lost his speed is purged from him.

When Barry calms down some, Len wipes the tears from his eyes and holds a glass of water to his lips while he gulps down half of it. Then they lay in silence while Len’s heartbeat evens out and Barry stops shaking.

“Thank you,” Barry whispers. Len answers with a kiss to his temple.

Len doesn’t seem too surprised when Barry pages him to an on call room several times on Monday. And Tuesday. By Wednesday, he’s a little slow to show up for their trysts, but he’s compliant when he meets Barry’s eagerness. Thursday, though, he shows up to the second floor on call room like he’s walking into battle. One he surrenders to once he realizes Barry wants to blow him against the door.

“Listen, Barry,” Len says while he pulls his scrub pants back into place. There’s a hint of a drawl in his voice. Distance. “It’s not that I want to complain about having sex four times a day. But I’m complaining.”

“I’m saying thank you for supporting me when I didn’t have my speed.”

“I feel thanked. Very, very thanked.” He bends down to kiss Barry where he’s sitting on the edge of the bed and runs his fingers through Barry’s windswept hair. “We’re going to bed early tonight and sleeping.”

Barry looks down, feeling a little sheepish about how he’s been mauling Len every time they see each other. “Sorry,” he murmurs.

Len lifts his chin with a finger. “Never apologize for showing me how much you want me. Just let me show you how much I love you too.”

Barry isn’t sure what he means by that until he hits pause on his libido and sits at the kitchen counter while Len cooks him dinner from scratch, asks about his day, his research, how studying for the boards is going, mentions a new exhibit at the Natural History Museum - something called the Kahndaq Dynasty Diamond - that he wants to go see after Barry’s exam, asks for suggestions on what to get Cisco for his birthday and gets on a little tirade about Lisa not planning a party because she definitely should, says he’s going up to Iron Heights tomorrow to see Henry and he’ll refill his prison account after their visit so Barry doesn’t need to worry about it this month.

Barry smiles a lot and doesn’t say much until Len says, “You’re awfully quiet tonight.”

“I love you too,” Barry answers.

Barry swears there’s a hint of a blush on Len’s cheeks before he turns and carries two plates to the dining room table. The blush might still be there when Barry climbs into bed and pulls Len’s arm around himself and shifts around until he feels perfectly comfortable and safe, but he’s not sure because it’s nighttime so Len can say all the things he’s already said during dinner, but with different words, and Barry won’t interrupt that by turning on a light.

o o o

Friday is a shitstorm. Barry will never look forward to a Friday again.

First, there’s a freak tornado - it touches down in the middle of Central City literally right as the meteorologist on the morning news is saying “It’s warm and sunny now, but there will be a few clouds later in the afternoon” - that floods the ER and crashes half the city’s power grid. They can’t get the power back on because as soon as the freak tornado has done its worst, rain and hail so violent the kids in the peds ward are crying and the nurses are kept on their toes soothing fears starts up.

Dr. Wells cancels all surgeries except emergencies and life-and-death situations in case the generator fails. Barry argues that a kidney transplant is life-and-death, and Dr. Wells agrees, but he has to delay the surgery anyway because no one can find his scheduled anesthesiologist. Barry scrubs out and goes to search himself because he can case the entire hospital in a second again. He comes up empty though.

“Hey,” Barry says, popping his head into the attendings lounge. “Has anyone seen Dr. Mardon today?”

“Nope,” Joe says. “And any day I don’t see Mark Mardon is a good day in my book.”

A clap of thunder so loud it rattles the coffee mugs lined up along a shelf over the sink startles Barry.

“He’s supposed to be in my OR right now.”

“I haven’t seen him either,” Ray says. “That’s not like Mark to just not show up. You should ask a nurse to call him. He might have gotten stuck in this mess.”

Ray peers out the window like baseball-sized hail isn’t threatening to shatter every window in the hospital.

Barry decides not to take the advice, but to ask the anesthesiology department to send him someone else stat. He’s in the stairwell when he hears screams coming from somewhere below him. He puts on a burst of speed, and half a second later, skids to a stop behind the welcome desk in the lobby.

Blackout is stalking toward the east stairwell, lightning crackling from his hands. Chunks of drywall break free and crash to the floor every time a branch of electricity jumps from his hands to the wall.

Barry draws in a sharp breath as he drops to the floor. He instinctively knows why Blackout is here. Other people are electrocuted by Blackout’s power. But not Barry. He’s an energy source. An almost endless one, it would seem.

He spends longer than he should taking in his surroundings, too startled and afraid to think straight for a moment. When he does, he sees Iris hiding under the stairwell with an elderly man in a patient’s gown. She makes eye contact with him, looks as scared as he is, but not out of her depth. She’s a trauma surgeon. She can handle this. Barry takes a breath. He can handle this too. He has to handle this because he’s the only one who can. He’s the only one who stands between Blackout and Iris. And Len and Cisco and Caitlin and everyone else in this hospital who has become his family.

He releases a deep breath, feels resolve taking over from his panic, and stands up. From the corner of his eye, he sees Iris make a startled movement then think better of it. Blackout whips around, like he can sense Barry’s energy. The lightning casts ugly shadows across his face that makes his eyes appear sunken and skin sallow. Or maybe it’s not the lightning. Maybe his time in STAR Labs did that to him.

“Farooq!” Barry calls. He takes three steps to the left. He can’t see Iris from the corner of his eye anymore. He doesn’t know if she can still see him. If she can, she can. Barry has to do this anyway. “This ends now. You’re not going to hurt anyone else.”

“You couldn’t stop me last time, _doctor_. What makes you think you can this time?”

“Because I’m not a doctor right now,” Barry says. And he’s not. Because he can’t be. He can’t hurt this man - even to stop him from hurting others - if he’s a doctor. “I’m the Flash.”

He moves too fast for anyone to see, even Blackout. They’re out of the lobby, but not out of the hospital. Barry knows better than to take a metahuman with electrocution powers into the driving rain. That, he’s sure, neither of them would survive. He takes Blackout to the basement of the parking garage. Cisco calls it Gollum’s Cave. It’s not too far off. It’s dark and cold and the deep shadows in the corner teem with maleficence. It’s made all the worse by the crackling lightning surrounding Blackout and the sharp scent of ozone.

“You can’t win,” Barry says. Barry sidesteps a fork of electricity and ends up five feet away. Blackout’s lips curl back in a snarl. “I’m faster than you. I’m stronger than you. And I’m not afraid of you.”

He’s really not, Barry realizes. Now that he’s decided to act to protect his friends, family, all the innocent people in the hospital, the initial fear that paralysed him is gone. He isn’t afraid of lightning and ozone. He’s made of it.

Barry rushes at Blackout. His hand is a fist and his arm is drawn back, but he never lands the punch. Blackout throws a branch of electricity and gets lucky. Or not. It connects with Barry’s chest, but it doesn’t feel like last time. It hurts less, tires him less. Too late, Barry understands what is about to happen. The speedforce is too strong. Maybe because it regenerated, maybe because Barry is running this time. No one, not even Blackout, can absorb it all. It’s horrible to watch.

Barry is still on his knees, mouth agape and in shock, when they find him. They being a murky term because Barry isn’t entirely sure who tries to take his pulse, who helps him onto a gurney, who is talking to him in a faraway voice until they’re in Dr. Wells’ research lab and Eddie’s face comes into focus. For all the death he sees on the operating table and in the ICU, he hasn’t seen a death so violent or needless since the night his mother died. Barry promptly rolls over and vomits all over the floor and Eddie’s shoes.

“It’s okay, Barry,” Eddie says. The compassion in his voice is so genuine, Barry almost believes him. No wonder Eddie’s patients love him. “You’re in shock, but otherwise, you’re not hurt at all. You still have your speed too, judging from the heart rate monitor that says you’re actually dead.”

Barry manages a chuckle. He accepts the glass of water Caitlin hands him to wash his mouth out. Cisco and Hartley are here too, standing away from the puddle of vomit and looking relieved but still shaken. Barry hears Dr. Wells’ wheelchair before he sees the Chief enter the room.

“Dr. Allen,” he starts, but is silent for a long time. “I rarely have no words, but you have rendered me speechless. I’m not sure if you are incredibly brave or stupidly reckless - although I suppose they may be the same thing, in the end - but I know that I am grateful. As I’m sure everyone in this hospital is. And I am more resolved than ever to ensuring your research continues. It’s one thing to see you catch a falling mug. It’s quite another to watch you save hundreds of lives.”

“Watch?” Barry asks nervously.

“There are security cameras in the parking garage. Even in Gollum’s Cave,” his voice twists when he uses the nickname and casts Cisco a telling look, “which is how we found you and I could send help.”

“We?”

Barry’s voice sounds weak to his own ears. He’s overcome with the desire to sleep for a week.

“Yes,” Dr. Wells says hesitantly. “When Blackout attacked the hospital, I was in a meeting. With Leonard.”

Oh God. Barry jumps down from the gurney. His legs are a little shaky, but he tries to run anyway. He starts to fall, but Eddie catches him. Barry pushes away from him, though. He feels a little steadier. His medical training tells him it’s adrenaline and temporary and he really needs to eat something now. But finding Len is more important.

The first time Blackout hurt Barry, it had been an accident, a coincidence of timing and location. And Len had almost lost it then. This time, Barry had been looking for a fight. He’d attacked first, hadn’t retreated, had run headfirst into danger.

“I have to go,” Barry says. “I will ... I’m fine. I’ll talk to you all tomorrow. I just ... I have to go.”

Barry doesn’t wait to hear their protests or concerns or questions. He runs.

o o o

Barry finds Len in their apartment. But only just. He all but trips over Len’s suitcase sitting in front of the door. Barry’s heart leaps up into his throat, blocking words for a full minute. Len stands on the other side of the suitcase, lips pressed into a line, eyes cold as ice. For all Barry wants to move - to hold Len back, to block his exit, to do anything but just stand here - the suitcase might be the Berlin Wall and Len’s anger the guards forbidding him access.

“I’ll be staying with Mick,” Len says.

Barry swallows thickly, forcing his heart back into his chest where it belongs.

“Lenny, no. Please stay.”

Len’s jaw is tight, inflexible. His breathing is rapid, but almost too even. And even though Barry has words now, he doesn’t know which ones to choose to make this better. All he can do is plead with Len to stay, to not give into the panic that must be firing through his every cell, to see that things will be all right in the end.

“Why?”

The word sounds harsh on Len’s lips. It’s sharp and drawn out, cold and distant. It breaks Barry’s heart. And he still doesn’t know what to say because ‘Ignore your panic’ and ‘It’s not a big deal’ and ‘But I’m fine’ aren’t acceptable. They’re cruel and dismissive and Barry will never say them.

“Okay,” Barry says on an exhale. The word is shaky with his unshed tears. “When you’re ready to come home, I’ll be waiting.”

Len doesn’t say anything else. He wraps his fingers around the handle of his suitcase with careful deliberation, and Barry hopes it’s because he has to force himself to walk away because that means he’s coming back, and he has to have faith that Len will come home to him again.

“I love you,” Barry says when Len is already out the door. Len pauses, glances over his shoulder at Barry through the half-closed door, and Barry sees the torment and accusation in his eyes, and when he finally closes the door it’s slowly, gently.

A whimper. Not a bang.

And Barry falls apart.

o o o

Cisco shows up with three quarts of Phish Food and Lisa. He looks apologetic about Lisa tagging along, but Barry figures it’s only fair since Lisa probably got the tip off from Mick because Barry hadn’t called Cisco yet. He was waiting for the tears to stop first. Lisa goes to the kitchen to find spoons while Cisco guides Barry to the couch.

“Sorry about Lisa,” Cisco whispers. “I tried to convince her I should come alone, but she didn’t agree, and what can I do? I’m only her husband.”

Lisa hands them each a tub of Phish Food and a spoon and plops down in the armchair. She makes a face when she takes the first bite of her ice cream.

“We really should have gotten Cherry Garcia instead.”

“Barry likes Phish Food best,” Cisco says. He pops the top off his quart of ice cream and does a better job than Lisa at hiding his disappointment that he has chunks of marshmallow and fudge instead of his beloved brownie bits.

Lisa has to tear her adoring eyes away from Cisco, and as much as Barry doesn’t mind the company, he really wishes they weren’t so obviously in love right now. She’s all business by the time her gaze lands on Barry, and despite the doe eyes she makes at Cisco all the time, he’s reminded that she’s been made as hard by life as Len.

“Mick says Lenny is staying with him. Want to tell me why my big brother felt the need to leave his own apartment?”

“Lisa, no!” Cisco hisses. “We’re here for Barry, not -”

“It’s _our_ apartment,” Barry retorts.

Lisa cocks an eyebrow as if to say that couldn’t be further from the truth. Barry could never afford this apartment on his own. He can’t even afford half the rent right now. Even next year, when he’s a fellow - if he passes his boards - he still won’t be able to cover half. But Len made it clear that doesn’t make this any less Barry’s home, and Barry hasn’t questioned that until now. Until Len left with a suitcase and no goodbye.

Barry’s eyes fill with tears again and he sets aside the unopened container of ice cream. He’ll have to eat soon to get enough calories to keep from passing out, but he can’t stomach anything right now.

“Look what you did,” Cisco said. “I’m not sure I’m okay with you disciplining our kids.”

To Barry’s surprise, Lisa does look remorseful. She’s not used to dealing with men who cry when she challenges them. Len and Mick are too guarded, Ronnie and Eddie too good-natured to take offense, Cisco too sure of her love. Lisa opens and closes her mouth several times, and Barry has enough practice with Len to know she’s not sure if she should say what she’s thinking out loud.

“I confronted Blackout,” Barry says. “And Len saw the whole thing on security cameras.”

Lisa’s thoughts leave her in a sharp sigh. “Oh.”

“I didn’t know what to say when I came home and ... and he was ... _leaving_.”

Barry’s voice cracks and he looks away sharply. To his surprise, Lisa abandons the distance between them and joins Barry and Cisco on the couch. She doesn’t quite hug him, but she sits facing him with one hand on the back of the couch and the other on the cushion beneath her leg so that her arms bracket him, and it feels like she wants to hug him.

“I hear from Lenny all the time about how much he loves you. But you love him like that too.” Barry nods and accepts the unspoken apology. “So I know you get why he’s freaking out right now.”

Barry sniffs, wipes his cheeks dry. He and Lisa have never really talked about it, but they’re both products of the foster system. They’ve both seen violence, as bystanders and victims. Their stories aren’t identical, but similar enough that the conversation between their words is as loud and clear as a scream of agony. And maybe that’s why they aren’t that close. There’s too much noise between them to talk normally.

“Yeah, I do. He’s not wrong to be angry. I do get that. But I’m not wrong either. I saved lives. In a different way than we normally do, but I saved lives.”

“He can’t see that.”

“I know.”

“So you’ll have to tell him.”

“I don’t know how yet.”

Barry notices Cisco’s small frown over Lisa’s shoulder because he can only hear a fraction of their conversation and it sounds like Barry has the precise words he needs to say.

Lisa’s grin is wry. “Doesn’t matter if you did. He wouldn’t listen yet.”

Barry thinks he understands why Len takes all his problems to his little sister now, despite how adamant he is about protecting her. Lisa doesn’t seem worried, so Barry doesn’t feel worried. She doesn’t seem angry at him, so Barry isn’t angry at himself. It’s probably some horribly twisted defense mechanism that she developed as a result of her childhood abuse, and if he thinks about it too much, finding comfort in it will make Barry feel sick so instead he accepts it as a gift Lisa is giving him the way he hopes his friends see his loyalty as a gift and not a byproduct of his childhood.

Cisco is totally baffled by their sudden interest in their melting ice cream, but he goes along with it and doesn’t mention how bizarre their synchronous mood swing looks to him. And that’s why everyone loves Cisco Ramon. That and because he offers Barry the rest of his Phish Food and because he stays the night under the guise of studying, but really it’s so Barry doesn’t have to be alone.

“You’re a good friend, Cisco,” Barry says.

Cisco’s cheeks heat up. “Thanks, man. Look, Barry. You and Len are going to be fine. I know it. Like, for certain. I can’t tell you how. But I do.”

Barry blinks curiously at his best friend. “What? Are you like a meta psychic or something?”

Cisco snorts. “No. Not at all. But I know it. Like, I _know_.”

Barry might get the truth out of Cisco one day, but not today. And more than most, Barry understands the importance of keeping a secret and Cisco’s dedication to that task, so he lets it go and chooses to trust that he and Len really will sort things out between them. They need some time and some space, then they’ll work it out. They’re too important to each other, too perfect for each other, to let anything come between them.

o o o

Barry didn’t think getting Len to talk would be a walk in the park, but it’s harder than even he anticipated. He knows Len is angry and hurt and reacting badly to those emotions, and the cold shoulder treatment isn’t totally unexpected. Barry responds the only way he knows how - with all the false optimism he can muster.

Len doesn’t talk to Barry at all the next morning. He turns and walks off in the opposite direction when they almost meet at the nurses' station. So Barry asks Kara to take a coffee to him even though that’s not an intern’s job, and because she’s Kara and he’s Barry, she’s happy to do it, even if she looks a little wounded when she returns.

“I think he thinks I poisoned his coffee.”

“He doesn’t think that,” Barry says. “He pretends to hate interns. That’s all.”

“You and Dr. Snart are very opposite.”

“That’s why we work.”

“Doesn’t look like you’re working so well right now,” Jesse comments without looking up from a chart she’s annotating.

“Doesn’t look like you’re scrubbing in on my appy today,” Barry retorts.

Kara almost laughs, and Jesse shouts, “Unfair!” but without heat. She’s buried in charts anyway, and she hasn’t shown the aptitude for treating children the way Kara has so he wouldn’t have picked her for his service today anyway and she knows it.

“Will I be scrubbing in?” Kara asks hopefully.

“Yes. So will Dr. Saunders. You’ll have to fight her to hold the retractor.”

Kara considers if she could take Kendra - there’s no way, in Barry’s opinion - and nods once. “I think those odds are pretty fair.”

Barry looks at her like she’s grown three heads, but says he’ll see her this afternoon and heads to the new meta research lab Dr. Wells is setting up personally.

Len does talk to Barry late in the day. Barry is erasing his name from the surgical board after a successfully completed surgery when Len sidles up next to him, all swagger and aloofness that stings.

“I need you to take my tonsillectomy tonight. I have Josue’s bowel resection at the same time and Ray is still in the OR with a compound fracture.”

It must be a severe case. They don’t remove tonsils often anymore. It’s worth missing a study session to get another solo surgery, especially one that doesn’t come up that often anymore. “Sure. I can do that.”

“I’ll forward you the chart.”

Len pushes off the wall with his shoulder, but Barry can’t let him go just like that. “Maybe if we finish our surgeries around the same time we could go for a drink and talk?”

But Len doesn’t answer with anything more than a shifting of his eyes that says that’s the worst idea he’s ever heard. After he’s rounded the corner, Barry breathes out a sigh and his shoulders slump.

It’s the same for the next week. Barry sends Len a coffee via Kara, who he now considers a friend as well as a great intern for the hits she’s willing to take for him. Len talks to Barry about surgeries because he’s the peds chief and Barry is a peds resident. Barry tries to find an excuse for them to spend time together and talk. Len shoots him down with glares of ever-increasing vehemence.

By the fifth day, Barry has braced himself for an all out snarl the next time they talk. He’s in the research library trying to come up with a diagnosis from a list of symptoms that all seem to contradict each other. Len finds him at the peak of frustration and leans against the table, long legs stretched out and arms crossed over his chest. Barry wants nothing more than to unfold those arms and tuck himself against Len’s chest and find comfort in his steady heartbeat.

“Do you have a surgery for me?” Barry asks.

Len doesn’t answer right away. He studies his nails more closely than he needs to. “I’m taking this case from you.”

“What? Why?” Barry demands. “This is my patient. You agreed that I’m ready, and -”

“Because you need good outcomes this week.” Finally, Len looks up and there’s nothing distant in his gaze. The intensity of it is a shock after a long absence. “Your examiners care about statistics and yours aren’t as good as they could be. So I’m taking this case because you don’t want to go into your boards with an undiagnosed medical mystery on your record.”

The doctor in Barry wants to protest - in the most verbally violent way he’s capable of - but he doesn’t. Because Len’s eyes are soft with love, but still sad beneath it. Because he’s letting Barry see that. Because this is how Len can tell Barry he still cares and it’s a sacrifice on his part to even give this much.

“Okay,” Barry says, because they both will have to sacrifice something to survive. “Thank you.”

Maybe it’s too much. He thinks it is for a second, but then he swears he can feel the tension dissipate between them. When Len leaves the library, it doesn’t feel like a whimper or a bang.

o o o

“You look about ten times happier than you did this morning,” Iris says. She slides her lunch tray onto the other side of the table and collapses into the plastic cafeteria chair. “I am starving. I just got out of a fifteen hour surgery with a bad outcome. That is not what I need this week. What I need is good outcomes and brownies.”

“Then it’s a good thing you have three brownies on your tray and three more days to get good outcomes,” Barry says. Iris accepts his optimism with a grateful upturn of her lips. “And I am happier now. Len and I talked. A little bit, anyway. Enough. Things are ... okay. They’ll be okay.”

“I’m really glad to hear that, Barry.” She sounds so genuine Barry questions why he still holds it against her that she didn’t always support his relationship with Len. “Seeing you sad is terrible. It’s like watching a puppy who lost his favorite squeaky toy under the couch.”

“Len isn’t a squeaky toy,” he says, “And I’m not a puppy,” he adds as an afterthought.

“Debatable.”

Barry shakes his head and laughs. He finishes the second hamburger on his tray and stands up. “Bring your tray. There’s something I need to show you.”

“But my feet hurt,” Iris says, a whine in her voice. “I’ve been standing for fifteen hours.”

“This will be worth it.”

Reluctantly, Iris grabs her to-go salad container and bottle of vitaminwater and follows after Barry. No one is in the meta research lab when they arrive since they had nothing pressing scheduled and not all of the equipment is set up yet. Iris hesitates by the door, reading the new sign installed there.

“Metahuman Research Lab?” she asks. “Oh my God! Is this your big resident project, Barry? You’ve been researching metahumans? That’s why you weren’t afraid of Blackout, isn’t it?”

“Close,” Barry says, “but not exactly.”

Iris abandons her lunch on a high table and follows him around while he twirls and rubs the back of his neck because now that they’re here, he realizes he didn’t plan this reveal at all and doing it in the same way as he told Cisco and Caitlin doesn’t feel right.

“I’ve been researching myself.” It only takes Iris a moment to go from curious to stunned. “I wasn’t afraid of Blackout because he attacked me once before and couldn’t hurt me too much because I ... have ... powers of my own?” He lets out a nervous laugh. “I’m fast. The fastest man alive.” His smile feels too big and bright. “I mean, probably. There’s definitely another speedster out there somewhere, but I don’t know where or who he is, so I don’t know if I’m faster or if he is.”

Iris blinks twice, shakes her head. “Barry .... This is incredible.”

“Is it?”

“Yes! Do you know what this could mean - what this _does_ mean - for Central City? We don’t have to be afraid anymore because now we know that there are peaceful metahumans and there are metahumans who save lives. We don’t have to give unprecedented power to STAR Labs to keep us safe. We don’t have to trade justice for safety.”

“Whoa, Iris.” Barry holds his hands up and he’s not sure if he’s trying to slow her down or plead with her not to add more responsibility onto his shoulders. “I’m not the Arrow. I’m not dressing up in a leather costume and patrolling the streets.”

“No, I know,” Iris says, and she’s almost laughing for a minute. “But medical research changes the world all the time. We’ve learned that we don’t have to be terrified of patients with HIV and how to treat schizophrenia and cured chronic diseases that used to make patient outcasts. We’ve humanized these patients through medical research. That’s what Central City needs. They need to know that there’s hope. Leather costume or not, you can save us, Barry.”

Barry blinks, stunned by her speech. Finally, he remembers what else he needs to say.

“Iris ... I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner. I should have when I told everyone else. I ... I was afraid you wouldn’t accept me if you knew. Which makes me feel really stupid right now.”

“Well, I hope you know now that I’ll always accept you.”

“I do, yeah.”

“Good. So let’s talk about the research schedule because there’s no way you can tell me about this but not let me be part of it.”

Barry rubs the back of his neck as he watches her scan the room, taking in the equipment that’s been set up so far and page through a couple lab reports Hartley left on the table.

“You’re really not freaked out or angry or hurt or anything?” he asks.

Iris considers for a moment. “Freaked out, no. We’ve seen way crazier things than superspeed in Central City. As for the rest ... I don’t think I have that right. You didn’t lie to me, Barry. You kept something to yourself because it scared you. How is anyone supposed to blame you for that? What I am is grateful that you trusted me with his now.”

She pulls him into a hug that Barry is all too happy to accept.

o o o

On Monday, the fifth year residents pile into Iris’s mid-sized sedan with their bags stuffed into the trunk and stomachs awash with nerves, drive to Keystone in the crush of afternoon traffic, and check into their hotel rooms where they’ll be cloistered away until Tuesday morning when they sit their board examinations along with hundreds of other surgical residents. By tomorrow midnight, they’ll either be certified by the American Board of Surgery or they’ll be looking for a new career.

Barry cranes his neck back to peer up at the dying afternoon light flashing off the six hundred windows of the Keystone Regency Hotel while Iris hands her keys over to the valet. All around him, surgical residents climb out of cars and cabs and rush into the lobby to sign in for their examinations and check in to their rooms. They move with speed and determination, like a code has been called and they must be the first to arrive, like they’ll somehow score better if their examiners know they signed in tenth and not fiftieth. It’s such a perfect picture of residency that Barry starts to laugh.

Cisco’s head appears over the top of the popped trunk. “No, no, no. Barry, no laughing like a crazy person. You can’t do this now.”

Barry can’t work the hysterical grin off his face. “We’re sitting the boards tomorrow. Everything we’ve ever worked for comes down to three hours in a hotel room.”

Caitlin lets out a nervous giggle. “Three hours in a hotel room with two other people who want to know how we perform complicated procedures on the human body.”

Hartley almost cracks a smile, but instead shakes his head and makes his way into the lobby. Cisco and Iris exchange a long, serious, worried look. Barry and Caitlin start laughing again. Giant, nervous, frantic laughs. They cling to each other as they follow Hartley inside, arms looped around shoulders and foreheads knocking together as their laughter makes them unsteady on their feet.

“This is not good,” Cisco mutters. “Come on, guys. Pull it together!”

“My dad warned me about this,” Iris says, as they join the queue in front of the sign-in table. “Not everyone has the nerves of steel trauma and neurosurgeons have. He said at least one of us would meltdown.”

“It better not be contagious,” Hartley grumbles. He already has his packet. “I’m going to check in to my room. I’ll see you for dinner.”

They all agreed ahead of time, at Ronnie and Lisa’s insistence, that they wouldn’t study the night before the exam, but they would splurge on a lavish dinner residents could never afford. It would go on their credit cards, to be paid next month when they were fellows and attendings and had the salaries to match the promotion. It’s a statement of hope and confidence to themselves.

Barry doesn’t ever really stop laughing until after dinner while lying in bed staring at the ceiling through filtered moonlight when his nerves settle into dread. He can’t sleep. His whole body itches with energy, and he contemplates going out for a superspeed run, but he doesn’t because then he’d have to eat again and the clock has already ticked over to 1am and his exam is in too few hours. Instead, he taps out a simple text as raw and vulnerable as he feels.

_I miss you._

He doesn’t expect an answer and doesn’t get one and for the first time since Len left, Barry forgets that they’re meant for each other, that they’re stronger than this, that time will heal them. And he cries.

A knock on his door shakes him out of his descending spiral. He swipes at his eyes with the backs of his hands and goes to answer. His money is on his visitor being Cisco. Iris won’t panic, start to finish. She’ll pass all three sessions and then she’ll meltdown. Caitlin will have calmed down, taken a sleeping pill, and went to bed precisely eight hours before she needs to wake up. Hartley is too proud to admit he’s nervous. But 2am meltdowns, those are Cisco’s style.

“Hey, Cisco. Come on in.”

But his visitor isn’t Cisco.

Len is holding a bouquet of wildflowers so ugly they shouldn’t be allowed and a dozen cupcakes from a supermarket close to Mick’s house.

“You came,” Barry almost whispers.

“I made you a promise.”

“I recall that being about phone calls at 3am.”

“It also includes texts at 1am.”

“Smoke signals at 11pm?”

“Don’t be silly, Barry. I wouldn’t be able to see smoke signals at night.”

Barry’s smile is shy, but genuine. They migrate from the door over to the couch and Len opens the cupcake container and hands Barry a chocolate one. Barry isn’t embarrassed by how hungry he is. Even with all of his friends knowing about his speed, and therefore his metabolism, eating his fill in a restaurant - particularly a fancy one with small portions - is a tricky affair.

“Thank you,” Barry says, and they both know it’s not about the cupcakes.

“I couldn’t do better at 1am,” he says anyway.

Len doesn’t say anything else for a long time. Barry can feel the aborted beginnings, rephrasings, dominoing thoughts so he stays quiet and just watches Len.

“I don’t know how to move past this,” Len says. “But I love you and I want you to do well tomorrow. You won’t if you think I’m leaving you. So you need to know that I’m not. I don’t know if I’ll be at our apartment tomorrow, but I’m here tonight.”

There’s so much Barry wants to say, but he only nods and accepts what Len can give him because maybe it’s not enough, but it’s everything Len has right now, and he’s offering it all to Barry and it’s all the hope he needs tonight.

Len’s touch as he undresses Barry is sure, but his kisses are a tender greeting as they reacquaint on the other side of their anger and hurt. Len guides Barry’s legs around his hips and wraps his strong arms around Barry and holds him close while they slide together. Barry is lost in the feeling of being joined with Len again and how Len doesn’t look away from his face until his eyelids slip closed as he stills and comes between their stomachs.

For a minute, Barry forgets that he’s still hard and flushed with arousal because Len never comes first and the only desire he cares about is the desire to know what emotions are crashing together inside Len to make him so hesitant and eager and raw and guarded in waves. Even when Len kneels on the floor and takes Barry into his mouth, his eyes are looking, looking, looking like Barry himself the answer to every question.

Len doesn’t move, just waits for Barry to understand. When he does, he fucks his hips up slowly, gently and the way Len fights the fluttering of his lashes is encouragement enough. It’s agonizingly slow for Barry, shifting his hips so ever slightly, but the high hums and whimpers vibrating from Len’s throat are his guide and they ask him not to change anything so he doesn’t until his orgasm rocks through him and he thrusts up, hits the back of Len’s throat, and comes with _Lenny_ on his lips.

They stumble to the bed then, both wrung out from their emotions more than their exertion, and Barry dares to hope that Len feels what he feels - that they’ve healed something, that they’re ready to figure things out now, because they’ve remembered they can only do that together.

“Goodnight,” Barry whispers. “I love you.”

“You’re the love of my life,” Len answers.

It’s not a whisper. It’s not a secret shared only in the dark. It startles Barry fully awake, but only for a moment. The press of Len’s lips on his shoulder blade is a call to settle, to sleep where he feels safest - in Len’s arms.

o o o

The fifth year residents are tripping-over-their-own-feet drunk. Boards are over, but the results aren’t posted yet. There are another blissful fifty-nine minutes until they’re board certified surgeons or failures and five more bottles of champagne left in the gift basket Lisa, Ronnie, and Eddie had sent to Cisco’s room sometime between him leaving for breakfast and finishing his exam.

“I failed the second session so hard,” Caitlin proclaims. “I mean .... I _failed_.”

“Ooh, what did they ask you?” Iris asks. “Because they asked me a question with fibromyalgia as a pre-existing condition and I totally lost my mind and diagnosed the new disease as fibromyalgia.”

Hartley and Cisco cackle appreciatively, but everyone has a story like that to share. Barry had the harrowing experience of being told three times in a row that his patient was dead. He blames that mostly on his examiners. If his stomach had dropped out when Dr. Malcolm Merlyn greeted him, it was a welcome reaction compared to the way his skin crawled when he shook hands with Dr. Eobard, whose first name he never did catch. As unnerving as Dr. Merlyn’s verbal assaults had been, it was Dr. Eobard’s relentless, searching look that almost did him in. He wishes he could get drunk and forget how awful he’d done in the first session.

“But we can fail one session and still pass,” Caitlin says. She sounds on the verge of tears. Hartley pours her more champagne. “I did okay in the first and third sessions. I think. Oh god. I’m gonna be sick.”

Barry races across the room and delivers her to the bathroom just in time. He holds her hair and rubs her back until she’s done and then sits on the floor with her while she presses her cheek to the cool tile.

“How did you do, Barry?”

Barry shrugs. He rallied after the first session. He thinks.

“Okay, I think. They didn’t tell me I killed any of my patients in the second or third session.”

“You messed up the first session?” Caitlin asks. She shudders, either from empathetic horror or because the floor is really cold. “If anyone can handle the pressure, it’s you, Barry.”

He appreciates the vote of confidence, even if he’s still worried.

“Dr. Wells!” Cisco shouts.

Barry turns toward the door, amused grin on his lips. “Are they playing trivial pursuit with attending CVs again?”

Then he hears the familiar motorized hum of Dr. Wells’ wheelchair. Oh, this could be bad. Everyone except Barry is falling over drunk and swapping stories about hypothetical scenarios in which their patients died the day before they need their Chief of Surgery to give them jobs or fellowships or stellar letters of recommendation. He stands and helps Caitlin to her feet.

“Uh, hi, Dr. Wells,” Barry says.

He glances between the Chief and his friends, who are scrambling to their feet with very little success. Cisco falls off the arm of the couch. Twice.

“We ... Umm,” Barry says lamely.

Dr. Wells holds up a hand. “I’m not angry, Barry. It’s a time-honored tradition for the Chief to visit fifth year residents after their boards and to find them completely inebriated. I can only imagine the champagne was supplied by our last cohort of fellows, soon-to-be attendings, if not already promoted, as a way of welcoming you into their ranks. It’s perfectly fine.”

Dr. Wells surveys the residents, and if he finds them ridiculous for the way they can’t stand up straight, he doesn’t show it.

“You came into this program as part of a cohort of sixteen. Everyone else dropped out or was asked to leave. You remain because you are the best. You are the future of medicine, and I mean that with all sincerity because never before in my career have I seen residents on the bleeding edge of medical research as you five are now. Not only is all of this true, but you have transcended the competitive nature of our field. You have been colleagues and friends to each other when previous cohorts have been bitter adversaries. Your presence in our hospital is all to the benefit of our patients and our reputation. I am so proud of each of you. It is my belief that you all will have passed your boards, and if so, it will be my ambition to find each of you a place at Central City General Hospital, should you wish to remain with us.”

Caitlin is sobbing into Barry’s shoulder, and even completely sober Barry is touched by that speech. 

“I will leave you to your merriment,” Dr. Wells says. “Remember that results are posted in ... thirty-eight minutes. And, please, for the sake of the patients, everyone take tomorrow off.”

o o o

Barry leaves Cisco’s room shortly after midnight because the results have posted online and he wants to call Len without hearing Caitlin crying with relief or Iris’s victorious, surprisingly profanity-laden celebration or Cisco’s cheeks turning redder which can only mean Lisa is promising to do things Barry doesn’t want to think about to him when he gets home. Hartley left too, presumably also for a quiet conversation with Axel. If they’re there yet. Maybe he’s calling his parents to tell them he’s made something of himself without their money. But he really hopes that’s not what he’s doing because he’s drunk and it’s a terrible idea.

“Dr. Allen.”

The voice is one Barry would know anywhere after today. A single syllable and he would recognize the speaker in a pitch black room or the middle of a noisy crowd. Dr. Eobard. Barry turns slowly, arranges his face into something less annoyed and wary because he has no reason to be except the roiling in his gut.

“Congratulations on your certification, Dr. Allen.”

Barry feels his mask of politeness slip. He feels like Dr. Eobard has robbed him of something, but he can’t place his finger on what. He hitches his smile back onto his face, but it feels tight and forced.

“Thank you, doctor.”

“I hope you don’t think Dr. Merlyn and I were too hard on you.”

Dr. Merlyn, no. He’d been a tough examiner, relentless in his pursuit of a complete and perfect answer, but a fair one. He gave no quarter because he knows Barry. When Malcolm Merlyn was finished with Barry, he felt tried and tested, exhausted, but triumphant. But Dr. Eobard. No, he had felt like an opponent more than an examiner.

“I appreciate the challenge,” Barry says. “Passing feels like more of an accomplishment knowing it wasn’t easy.”

Eobard takes a step forward and Barry has to fight the impulse to step backward. His hands curl into fists at his side and he can’t unclench them.

“Dr. Allen ... I’d like to offer you a place at STAR Labs. I’d like you on my research team.”

Barry shakes his head, not even pretending to consider it. “I’m a pediatric surgeon. I hope there’s not a lot - not anything - for me to do at STAR Labs.”

“Oh, I wasn’t offering you a place as a doctor. There is, however, always the need for more metahumans in our pipeline. It would be a nice change of pace to have someone with a less ... volatile personality in our facility.”

Barry’s head swims and his heart leaps uncomfortably. “I don’t -”

Eobard is shaking his head. “No, no. Don’t try to deny it. Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t mean you harm.” The words are said in a sickly sweet tone that reminds Barry of first grade lessons on not accepting candy from strangers or getting into their cars. “I want to help you understand all of your abilities. And then, when you do, you can help me, Barry.”

His name said in that voice is like a steel door slamming closed in Barry’s mind, shutting off rational thought. He takes a step away, but too quickly. Eobard’s eyes flash with anger, and it must be the adrenaline, but Barry thinks they flash _red_. Alarm bells sound in his head. His body is tensed and ready to fight or flee without his brain comprehending why.

“Of course, I don’t expect you to join us at STAR Labs without incentive. If you volunteer, if you cooperate, you’ll receive a generous salary and benefits package. And I’ll have your father released from prison.”

It takes Barry a full minute to process the words. “W-What? How?”

“STAR Labs has contracted with the military. They’re very happy with our results. There are very few things they wouldn’t make happen to see our progress continue, including securing a pardon from the governor.”

Barry’s body is a riot, his mind a hurricane. Beneath that, he feels something cool and logical soothing his emotions. It feels the way Len’s voice sounds. He seizes hold of it like a life raft.

“That sounds nice, but I don’t think the governor can go around pardoning convicted murderers.”

“He can if he’s presented with proof that the evidence was fabricated by the CCPD so they could save face by closing a high profile case quickly.”

“Was it?” Barry asks sharply.

“It could be made to look that way.”

Barry’s instinct is to protest on behalf of the people who will lose their jobs and pensions if there’s a falsified ethics scandal surrounding CCPD, but he checks it because the police wouldn’t listen to Barry, wouldn’t investigate with open minds, so it’s on their own heads. He cares less about all of them combined than about his dad.

“That wouldn’t clear my dad’s name. It would be releasing him on a technicality.”

Eobard almost laughs. On him, it looks hideous. “Well, you’re not asking for much, are you? I can’t give you the moon, Barry.”

Eobard stands before him, patient but impassive while Barry considers if he can accept this almost victory, as if he knows what Barry will say even before Barry knows. Because there really is only one answer. It will cost him everything - his career, his reputation, his freedom, his morals, possibly even his life - but there is only one answer.

He opens his mouth to give the only answer, but the sound of a motorized wheelchair fills the silence and gives him pause.

“Good evening, Dr. Allen. Dr. Eobard of STAR Labs. Is that correct?”

Eobard nods once. His face doesn’t look so impassive now. “Yes. And you are?”

Dr. Wells doesn’t seem at all offended that his reputation doesn’t precede him. “Dr. Harrison Wells, Chief of Surgery at Central City General Hospital. I would say I’m sorry to intrude, but it appears I’ve arrived just in time to stop you from poaching my newly board-certified resident.”

“Perhaps not,” Eobard replies. There’s an edge to his voice that sends chills down Barry’s spine. “I’ve made Barry an offer you can’t counter.”

“That’s true,” Dr. Wells says placidly. “I can’t match what you’re offering Barry. But I can offer you more than you’ll receive with only his cooperation.”

“How so?”

“STAR Labs has something of a public relations problem, as I’m sure you’re aware. Metahumans go into your facility and never come out. People have noticed. Except, recently one of them did come out of STAR Labs and attacked a hospital. _Central City Picture News_ has never circulated so many copies. I hear the mayor is opening an investigation.”

Eobard looks down his nose at Dr. Wells like he’s a fly Eobard intends to swat if he just sits still for long enough.

“You hear he’s opening an investigation? Or you encouraged him to do so?”

Dr. Wells’ face doesn’t shift much, but somehow he looks triumphant, and Barry is reminded that for all his agreeable personality, he’s Chief of Surgery and a world-renowned neurosurgeon and neither is possible without ambition and cunning.

“You don’t need more metahumans in STAR Labs. You need legitimacy and transparency, or the perception of both, at the very least. At the risk of sounding exceedingly arrogant, you need me and you know that because contrary to your earlier implication, you know exactly who I am and my reputation in the field of medical research.”

“I need Barry.”

“And me,” Dr. Wells insists. “You already know what is required for Barry’s cooperation. For my cooperation, I require Barry at my hospital, in my own research lab.”

Eobard is silent for a long time. Barry can’t guess the thoughts in his head, but they’re many and complicated judging from the ripple in his brow and deepening frown.

“Your involvement has always been ideal.”

“Then we’re agreed,” Dr. Wells says.

Eobard doesn’t stay to hash out the details. Barry has never been so thankful for anything before. The tension escaping him leaves him bone tired.

“I’m not one for hunches and gut feelings,” Dr. Wells says, “but let’s make sure no one is ever alone with that man again. I don’t imagine anything good can come of associating with Dr. Eobard.”

o o o

Barry is halfway through burning toast when he hears the front door. He peers over his shoulder at Len, who is dressed in dark wash jeans and a blue-gray t-shirt, a sure sign that he’s not going into work today. He’s empty-handed save for his car keys. Barry tries not to feel the pang of disappointment that there’s no suitcase, no promise he’s coming home.

“Let me,” Len says.

He reaches around Barry to grab the burnt toast, tosses it into the bin, and starts fresh with two new slices of bread. While they wait, Barry dares to touch his lips to the corner of Len’s mouth. He doesn’t pull away, but doesn’t turn into the kiss either.

“Harrison told us all of our residents passed,” Len says. “You didn’t call me.”

“I got distracted by the creepiest job offer in history.” Barry shudders just thinking about it. “Dr. Wells saved me from a sinister job at STAR Labs, though. At least, I think he did. I hope.”

Len doesn’t say anything, gives Barry space to decide if he wants to talk about it right now. He doesn’t. He didn’t get enough sleep last night. A pair of glowing red eyes kept waking him up. All he wants is breakfast and to sleep in the sunshine today. And now that Len is here, to make everything right again. But to make things right, he has to talk.

“STAR Labs wants to study me. And I was ready to let them last night.” Len looks up from the toaster sharply, eyes blazing with icy fury. “They have a way to get my dad out of prison. Political leverage, I guess. There wasn’t a choice.”

Len’s hands are shaking where they rest on the granite countertop.

“I know I scare you. I scare my dad too. And I’m sorry for that. But I’m not sorry - I’ll never be sorry - about standing between the people I love and anything that might hurt them. I’m not sorry I almost volunteered to go to the STAR Labs pipeline so my dad can be free. And I’m not sorry I kept Blackout from hurting you and everyone else I love who was in the hospital. I wish it didn’t hurt you. I wish it didn’t create this ... space between us. But I can’t be sorry I protected you.”

Len’s fingers curl around the edge of the counter. His eyes are cold, his jaw tense, mouth pressed into a thin line. His voice angry. No sneer, no drawl. Pure, dark anger.

“You are so goddamned heroic I want to hurt you myself for it.”

“No more than you.”

“I’m no hero.”

“I’m sure your patients and their parents would disagree. Not to mention Lisa.”

Barry knows that Len took abuse to protect Lisa, that he threw himself between her and Lewis to spare her hits that no one should have had to take, especially not a child. But Len had taken them because he was a slightly older child, old enough to understand that a fist would do less damage to his skin and muscles and bones than hers.

Len stares at Barry, flat expression unreadable to anyone but Barry and Lisa and Mick. Then he turns away, focuses his attention on buttering the unburnt toast, as if Barry cares at all about his breakfast now.

“Fine,” Len says. “It’s the same thing.”

“Not exactly. I’m sure it was a lot harder to stand against your own father.”

Len’s mouth twists. “Let’s not get carried away here, Barry.”

They won’t talk about this again, Barry knows that instinctively. Len will have to find a way to accept that Barry is going to protect him every bit as much as Len would protect Barry. He’ll change over the years like everyone does, but that part of him, the core of him, will always be the same. He doesn’t think Len really wants him to change it though, whatever he might say right now. Barry knows a thing or two about finally feeling safe, about the relief of having someone to rely on, about the paradoxical freedom that comes with dependence.

“So your dad is staying in prison?”

“I don’t know,” Barry says honestly. “I don’t trust a word that comes out of Eobard’s mouth, much less a promise he’s made.”

Len nods slowly. “If Eobard doesn’t come through, I’m calling my old contacts. I found a cabin in the Ozarks for sale. I’ll buy it under the table. Cash. Use a fake name and a disguise. Henry will be hidden there and they’ll never be able to trace it back to us. You can superspeed to go visit him whenever you want. No one will be able to track you.”

Len slides the plate of toast and a sliced banana onto the counter. Barry ignores his intended breakfast.

“Is this what you’ve been doing at Mick’s all week? Planning a prison break?”

“Something that happened twenty years ago shouldn’t still be ruining your life, Barry. I can fix it. So I’m going to.”

“And possibly ruin the next twenty years of everyone’s lives when you go to prison for trying? No. You heard my dad. He doesn’t want it done this way.”

“It’s nothing you wouldn’t do,” Len counters. “You just told me so yourself. Or is the pipeline secretly a five star establishment?”

 Barry huffs out a breath.

“Getting an inkling of how infuriating you are?”

“Don’t be an ass!” Barry snaps. He’s less annoyed when he asks, “You’re not serious, are you? You wouldn’t really do this?”

“I would tear that prison apart brick-by-brick if it would give you the life you were meant to have.”

Barry hears the sincerity in this words.

“Well, you can’t do that, Lenny, because then I would lose you too.”

“Apparently, I almost lost you last night.”

“Yeah,” Barry admits. “What are we gonna do about this tendency to throw ourselves on the sacrificial altar for each other?”

Len leans against the counter next to Barry, arms crossed and eyes down. “That’s what I’ve actually been doing this week,” he says, “trying to answer that question.”

“Do you have an answer? Because I would love to know what it is.”

“Cisco said we should embrace it. And stop being idiots. But then he apologized for that last part because I glared at him.”

Barry can’t help the laugh that escapes him. “He knows better than to mess with Captain Cold. Wait. But you talked to Cisco about this?”

Len nods. “When I told him to come see you.”

“You told him to .... Oh. That’s how he knew _for certain_ that we’d be fine. You told him to bring me Phish Food.”

“I couldn’t be here, but I didn’t want you to be alone.”

They’re silent for a long time until Len uncrosses his arms and takes Barry’s hand and locks their fingers together. There’s nothing more to say because there are no easy answers, no way to resolve this with one conversation. It will take a lifetime of them. And even then it might never be resolved because life is too messy for everything to have a neat ending.

“I want you to come home,” Barry says.

“I’m not sure -”

“You have to come home,” Barry insists. “We have to be in this together.”

Slowly, Len nods. “Okay.”

“Okay,” Barry echoes.

But everything doesn’t feel okay. Everything feels shaky and unsure and scary. But even that is better with Len by his side than the sunniest of days without him. That’s what a relationship is, after all, stumbling through life with the person who doesn’t expect you to always have solid footing, the person who can pick you up and dust you off, and sometimes, fall down beside you and lay on the floor with you and wait for the dizziness to pass.

o o o

The weeks after the board examinations are all about settling into a new normal. Caitlin and Iris are offered attending general surgeons, which Caitlin accepts immediately and Iris spends three days negotiating because she wants her contract to be absolutely clear that she runs the ER when Sara is not in the building. Cisco, Hartley, and Barry are allowed to wear the dark blue attending scrubs when they’re working, but they’re still waiting to hear about their fellowships.

In true Martin Stein style, Cisco is awarded the neuro fellowship in the middle of the lobby on Tuesday morning as Dr. Stein proclaims Cisco’s many virtues in a booming voice. Cisco is beet red by the time he’s done. Barry spots Jax and Jesse on the staircase filming the speech and trying not to laugh because that will shake their phones. And in true Mick Rory style, he gives Hartley the good news about his ENT fellowship by shouting at an intern to, “Go bother my fellow with this!” and motioning at Hartley.

There’s no word on the peds fellowship or Henry’s pardon for another four days and Barry is a nervous wreck. No matter how much Len assures him that he’s getting the fellowship, it’s all Barry can do to stop himself from darkly daydreaming about what a shit househusband he’d make - burning toast, ruining vacuums, turning laundry pink - if he can’t be a surgeon.

“You’re a board-certified surgeon,” Hartley tells him. “Worst case scenario, you go into private practice with surgical privileges here and in Keystone.”

“That’s too logical,” Axel says. “Surgeons prefer to exist in a state of constant anxiety.”

“We do not,” Hartley says.

“I heard Dr. Rory say he has a cochlear implant now.”

“What?” Hartley cries. “No! That’s my surgery. Why would he take that from me? He just picked me to be a fellow. Oh, god. Unless he didn’t. What if the rest of the committee wanted me, but he didn’t and he just got stuck with me?”

“Fascinating,” Axel says.

Hartley’s worried expression clears and settles into a dark glare. “You are a creature of chaos. I love it.”

Axel’s grin is positively gleeful.

Barry excuses himself to find Dr. Wells and ask him, again, if he’s heard from Eobard. Despite Dr. Wells’ assurance that it will take time, Barry has bothered him every day for news. He knocks on the Chief’s door and pops his head inside.

“Barry,” Dr. Wells says cheerfully, “just the person I wanted to see. Take a look at this.”

It’s a proof of tomorrow’s edition of _Central City Picture News_. The headline reads: _CCGH Doctors Join STAR Labs Research Team_. A large rectangle labeled [ picture of CCGH Research Team in Metahuman Research Lab ] is beneath. It’s a front page story, above the fold.

“A photographer is coming at 3pm today. We’re meeting them in the Meta Research Lab.” Barry points at himself and arches his eyebrows. “Yes, Barry. We’re going to hide you in plain sight. You and Hartley.”

Barry nods. “Uh, okay. And this is part of the plan that’s going to get my dad released from prison?”

“It is. In fact, I just got a call from General Eiling’s secretary telling me the paperwork has been signed. Henry is being released from Iron Heights at noon.” 

Barry’s heart leaps. “For real? It’s actually happening? Today?”

“It’s actually happening today.”

Twenty years. He’s been waiting, hoping, praying, nearly given up on seeing this day.

“I have to go tell Len.”

“Before you go, Barry, allow me to overwhelm you a little bit more,” Dr. Wells says with a grin. He hands Barry a manila envelope. “Your fellowship contract. Take some time to look it over, decide if you want to negotiate at all. But I advise you to sign within the next two days. Any later and it will get ... complicated.”

Barry’s emotions are all over the place. He can’t do anything but accept the envelope and turn it over in his hands.

“Why will it be complicated?”

“Because in two days time, I am tendering my resignation as Chief of Surgery. When I do, the Board will name Leonard as Interim Chief. It would be a politically tricky thing for an Interim to appoint his fiance to a fellowship as his very first act in the position.”

Barry looks down at the envelope promising him the future he’s been working towards for over a decade. It’s too many good things all at once. There has to be a catch. This isn’t how his life ever goes.

“Why are you resigning?”

“Many reasons,” Dr. Wells says. “Not all of them about the meta research. The Board has wanted this for awhile. And so has Tess. There’s a certain amount of sacrifice the spouse of a Chief of Surgery has to make, and she made it at a young age. I owe her some of that time back.”

Barry’s smile is rueful. “Thanks for that, Dr. Wells. But it sounds a lot like you won’t have time to be Chief and do all the research STAR Labs is going to demand.”

“As I said, there are many reasons for my resignation. As I attempted to imply, it would seem without success, you should feel guilt over none of them. You’re a fellow. Your father is free. Leonard is Chief. That’s all you should think about today.”

Barry promises to try, and knowing that’s all he’ll get from Barry, Dr. Wells doesn’t ask for more.

Barry finds Len in the attendings lounge with Lisa and Cisco who are indulging in the leftover blueberry muffins Martin baked as part of a celebratory breakfast in Cisco’s honor. Barry joins them at the circular table near the rain-splattered window. He ignores the presence of Mark Mardon, who shouldn’t even be in here because he’s an anesthesiologist - and Barry doesn’t care that he’s an attending anesthesiologist because he’s still pissed Mardon missed his surgery - and Dr. Singh, a surgical oncologist, who is sitting with him.

“My dad is getting out of prison at noon.”

They’re silent for a long moment, then they’re speaking all at once. Happiness that Henry is free. Wonder that Eobard came through. Suspicion about what he wants in exchange.

“I know he didn’t do it out of the goodness of his heart,” Barry says.

“Right?” Cisco interjects. “Because what goodness? What heart?”

“But whatever the cost, I’m willing to pay it. I’ve waited twenty years for this. If it took a deal with the devil, then ... okay.” He looks over at Len, grinning widening. “Whatever bad comes of this, and I’m sure it’ll be something awful, we’re getting a lot of good too.”

“Without anyone turning to a life of crime,” Lisa says pointedly, which tells Barry exactly what she thinks of Len’s prison break plan.

Len ignores her. He unlocks the top cubby portion of his locker and hands Barry his car keys. “I’ll do your appy this afternoon,” he says. “Go pick up your dad.”

Barry checks his watch. “I don’t even have time to pick him up any clothes or get the spare room ready or -”

“I’ll take care of it,” Lisa says. “I don’t have any surgeries scheduled today that can’t be pushed until tomorrow.”

She tosses a muffin wrapper in the trash and stands to leave with him. He pulls her into a tight hug that she resists for only a second, a standard Snart reaction to being touched unexpectedly, then hugs him back.

“Everyone in this family is in desperate need of a really good parent,” Cisco says, hugging Barry next, “so just go pick him up for us, okay? We’ll take care of everything else.”

Barry laughs and the sound of tears is in his voice. “I should probably warn my dad he’s inherited, like, eight more kids since he’s been in prison.”

“Pretty sure he knows, dude,” Cisco says. “We were pretty clingy when he was in the hospital.”

Barry takes his leave before he starts bawling in the middle of the attendings lounge with Mark Mardon watching. He lets the tears of relief come once he’s behind the wheel of Len’s BMW. Then, when he dries his eyes and takes a shaky breath, he drives to Iron Heights one last time.

o o o

The Stein’s garden and yard is a riot of colors - maple red, golden yellow, burnt orange - against the lush green of the rain-watered lawn. Autumn flowers soon to fade with the first frost of the year bloom from flowerbeds along the house, fence, and gazebo. Bright Russian sage sits in vases in the center of the single, long dining table set up in the yard and curls around the white wooden altar beneath which Barry and Len exchanged their marriage vows three hours ago.

Barry and Len sit at the head of the table like benevolent kings holding court. The dishes have long since been removed in a group effort. The meal, catered by Martin, Clarissa, Ronnie, and Iris has been cleaned up by a gaggle of volunteers who scarcely fit into the kitchen despite it’s massive size while Barry, Len, Lisa, Cisco, and Henry stayed at the table alone, talking in quiet voices, smiling and crying in turn, and occasionally, at the same time.

The air is cool enough that several men give up their suit jackets for women shivering in their short sleeve dresses, whether or not they came together. Jesse is wearing Axel’s jacket, and Kendra has Dr. Wells’, a fact which seems to startle her whenever she remembers it. Only Kara seems impervious to the changing weather, dancing around the yard barefoot and in a strapless dress. Jax keeps trying to offer her his jacket, and she keeps laughing like she knows a secret he doesn’t. Nyssa matter-of-factly tells anyone who offers their jacket to her or Sara that they are perfectly capable of keeping each other warm and stares them down until they back away. Mick offers Sara his jacket three times anyway. Sara and Mick think it’s hilarious; Nyssa does not. Eventually, Henry lures Mick away by asking if he can help pour drinks.

“Should we join them on the dance floor?” Barry asks.

“What dance floor?” Len returns. “I only see trampled grass.”

Barry nudges him with his elbow. “You just don’t want to dance with me.”

“I don’t want to dance with you in public.”

“This isn’t public. These are our friends.”

“I am not friends with interns.”

Barry rolls his eyes and makes a sound halfway between a laugh and a sigh. “Please dance with me.”

When they join their friends on the dance floor, Eddie and Ray, who are in charge of the music because they’re the sappiest of all their friends and know the perfect wedding songs, change out the music for a slow song.

“It’s the happy couple’s first dance,” Eddie says.

“Everyone keep dancing with us or Len will lose his nerve,” Barry says. He gets a poke in his side for that, but it only makes him laugh.

He wonders who picked out their wedding song because Eddie would have picked something old and classic and Ray would have picked something off beat and Ed Sheeran is neither. Their wedding song will remain an anonymous gift from their friends, like everything else. He doesn’t know who picked the flowers or place settings or altar. And he doesn’t know how they did it in two weeks and between surgeries and studying for intern exams and while researching.

“Are you happy with our wedding?” Barry asks.

It’s not anything like what they planned for so many months. It’s not December. The guest list was reduced to less than twenty-five. They’re in suits they’ve owned for years instead of tailored tuxes. It’s been more of a party than a ceremony from start to finish. And they didn’t pick out a single detail of the wedding themselves - a fact that can’t sit well with Len - because they didn’t have time with them both starting new jobs with more responsibility.

“It’s perfect,” Len says.

Barry decides not to press. He knows it’s not really perfect. Barry doesn’t like that their vegetables choices were asparagus and brussel sprouts. He doesn’t like that they didn’t write their own vows. There must be things Len doesn’t like too. But these things seem less important now than during all those months when they flipped through a hundred invitations to pick a style they both loved and sampled untold bites of cake without settling on a flavor. All of that feels like wasted time now and this celebration thrown together by all their friends in less than two weeks as one huge wedding gift is what they should have done from the beginning. Barry loves that he can see Iris in the uniqueness and Caitlin in the precision and Hartley in the elegance of the affair and Cisco in the many, many different flavors of wedding cupcakes. He loves that there are so many other things he can’t trace back to one person because it's a group effort and their personalities blend together in the details.

“It’s funny how all of this is them, but it’s actually us,” Barry says.

“That’s the part I love most about this mess of a wedding,” Len says. There’s no heat to the words so Barry knows it’s not meant as an insult, just an observation that nothing matches and there’s no formality to anything. His voice is soft, meant just for Barry when he continues. “I never thought I could have this. I didn’t think I could have too many friends and a huge family and someone who would love me enough to marry me. Even if the details are wrong, they’re all still perfect to me.”

Barry nods because he understands contradiction in the same way Len does because he knows Len like he knows himself, and he feels known like he never has been before. So if the colors are off and the guest list is smaller and the menu is different and the music is wrong, it’s all still perfect. Because they have what they thought was impossible. They have a life full of love and trust and safety and healing.

They have a great life. They have a great love.

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, readers! I hope you enjoyed another installment of this series. If you did, your kudos and comments would be much appreciated. I return to the comments page a lot when I’m struggling with a story, and I have to admit that these last two have been especially difficult for me. All the kudos and comments remind me that finding time for writing everyday is good for me. They remind me that I’m part of a community that finds value in writing and creativity and it’s okay to set aside time to express myself through fiction even if my apartment is dusty and the dishes aren’t washed. So thank you all for telling me you’re out there and enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it. I don't have a beta-reader so all mistakes are my own. I'm happy to correct if they're pointed out to me. If you’d like to talk to me about the series or about anything else, you can find me at arainymonday.tumblr.com.


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